YOU CAN'T GO HOME AGAIN
by Rebel8954
Summary: Seth wouldn't be surprised if the coffin lid would swing open and the old man sit up in indignation if the service went thirty-one minutes. John Rollins wasn't a man who liked being either disobeyed or thwarted. (For the purpose of this story, I'm using the Jon Moxley character & not Dean Ambrose.)
1. Chapter 1

Seth Rollins really believed that you couldn't go home again. But here he was. Back in Davenport, Iowa. He didn't want to be here, standing in Memorial Gardens cemetery at the side of his great-uncle's coffin. But here he stood, listening to the minister of the First Davenport Baptist Church deliver the eulogy.

John Rollins had been an admirable man as evidenced by the large turnout of people at the service. Per John's orders, the only service was at the grave site and in true John Rollins fashion, he'd left instructions that the service would be no longer than thirty minutes in length.

Seth wouldn't be surprised if the coffin lid would swing open and the old man sit up in indignation if the service went thirty-one minutes. John Rollins wasn't a man who liked being either disobeyed or thwarted.

John Rollins had been the only relative left alive when Seth's parents were killed in a drive-by shooting when Seth was nine. The only comment the old man had made when meeting Seth was that if his parents had been at home in Davenport, they still would have been alive. He'd never stopped reminding Seth that he was the only reason Seth wasn't sitting in an orphanage or some foster home where he was only wanted for the money the state provided for his care.

The only bright spot in Seth's young life had been the bookstore his great-uncle owned. Seth would spend hours there after school and in the summer at first reading quietly in a corner but then working stocking the shelves and helping customers before finally being given the responsibility for running the register and learning how to find rare books for customers.

The commute was easy because the old man lived on the second floor where he had renovated the area into a large three-bedroom apartment. Seth never asked who was to have occupied the other two bedrooms. He slept in one of the bedrooms and the other remained unoccupied.

John Rollins often gave some of the local kids part-time jobs in the bookstore. The bookstore wasn't located in the better part of Davenport so there were often kids just roaming the streets. The back tables were turned into study areas because the old man insisted that homework was to be done first. And there was no excuse for not doing it because there was a large reference section in the bookstore.

Seth had occasionally made friends with some of the kids his age but had always felt out of place around his great-uncle, more than half convinced he'd be kicked out if he didn't live up to John Rollins' strict rules and expectations. When he'd gotten a partial scholarship to a college in Missouri to major in education, all John Rollins would say was that at least he'd be able to find a decent job. Because the old man didn't believe in inheritances.

So, at age eighteen, Seth had left Davenport, his great-uncle, and the bookstore behind. And never came back. He'd exchanged letters with his great-uncle more out of duty than anything else. He'd gotten his Masters in Education but had realized he had a knack for writing. Fiction. All kinds of fiction.

Before obtaining his Masters' Degree, he'd written two mysteries, one of which hit the New York Times Best Sellers' List at number 5. Under a pen name. By his graduation, he'd written a spy thriller under a different name that had been made into a television mini-series. By the time he was thirty, he'd written four books of a fantasy series that had all hit the NYT Best Sellers' List. Under yet another pen name. A fifth book was currently being edited and he had a solid draft for the sixth book.

Seth had written his grandfather about his success when his first two books had been published. All John Rollins had replied was to continue his education so he'd have something to fall back on. It was wise advice but a 'congratulations' would have been appreciated. A 'proud of you' would've been too much to expect.

Still, his great-uncle had been a good man and helped a lot of kids. A lot of whom were attending the service. Seth could respect their presence and what his great-uncle had done for them.

He also couldn't help but glance at his watch when the service had concluded. Twenty-six minutes in length. John Rollins would have approved.

"Excuse me, you're Seth Rollins, aren't you?"

Seth turned to see a well-dressed dark-haired man next to him. Several people had approached him to offer their condolences. Some he'd remembered. But he didn't recognize this man. "Yes."

"I'm Damien Sandow. I'm your great-uncle's attorney." He held out his hand, and Seth shook it. "I realize this may be somewhat unusual, but we need to talk. About the bookstore and other property."

"Other property?" Seth frowned. "I'm sorry. I'm not knowledgeable about my uncle's business affairs."

"I understand." Sandow half smiled. "There is other property involved. Would one hour at my office be convenient?"

Slowly, Seth nodded and took the card Sandow handed to him. He stuck it in his pocket as the minister approached him.

"Stay as long as you want," the older man smiled.

"Thank you for kind words," Seth replied. He waited as the crowd around the coffin thinned out then walked over and stood looking down at it. For someone who could weave intricate stories and plots with his words, he found he had nothing to say.

"Rest in peace," Seth finally murmured. He turned to walk away only to find another man approaching.

"Mr. Rollins, I'm Mike Mizanin." The other man held out his hand, and Seth automatically shook it. "You don't remember me, do you?"

Seth studied the man closely for a moment. "Maybe? High school, I think." He shook his head. "I'm sorry. There have been so many people…"

"Everyone called me The Miz."

Seth's dark eyes widened. "I **do** remember you. Spanish class. And English Lit, right?"

"Right," Miz grinned. "Maybe this isn't the best moment to bring this up, but your uncle and I were discussing his selling the bookstore and the building next to it to me. We'd agreed on a price and were ready to have our attorneys draw up the paperwork, but unfortunately…" He glanced at the coffin. "I just wanted to touch base with you and give you my card so when you're able to talk about completing the deal, we can get it going."

Seth took the card and slid it into his pocket. "I'm sure there are legalities involved before I can even discuss that with you. Probate, at least."

"Of course," Miz nodded. "I just wanted to touch base with you about it." He patted Seth's arm. "My condolences, of course."

"Thank you." Seth watch Miz walk away and resisted the urge to wipe the arm of his jacket.

Neither of them saw a women watching them from a distance. She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. She quickly typed a text and sent it.

'_Better get back here quickly. Miz is already making a move.'_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

He didn't even flinch when he heard the gates close behind him. Instead, he looked up at the blue sky and took several deep breaths of air. He began walking away from the prison, refusing to look over his shoulder. Rather he concentrated on the man leaning against a car, obviously waiting for him.

As he approached the man, he made a silent vow he was never going back to prison. A couple of days in the local jail, he could handle with no problem. But never again would he serve another day in prison. He'd put a bullet in his head first.

He stopped in front of the man leaning against the car and stared at him. It had been five years since they'd seen one another, and each man noticed the changes in the other.

"I owe you," he finally said.

"Brothers don't keep score. Remember? C'mere."

Jon Moxley stepped into the arms of his brother from another mother. "Damn, it's good to be out of there. Thanks, Roman."

Roman Reigns tightly squeezed his brother then stepped back. "Once the arresting officer was convinced to admit he'd tampered with the evidence and the head of the crime lab convinced to admit he'd falsified the DNA evidence, it wasn't hard to convince the District Attorney to have the DNA retested. Once the results showed the DNA at the murder scene wasn't yours, they didn't have a choice but to vacate your conviction." He glanced around. "Let's go. I managed to keep a lid on when you'd be released, but it won't take long for the media to figure it out and show up."

Moxley nodded and put the box of his few belongings into the trunk of Roman's Lincoln. The two men then got into the car, and Roman drove them away from the prison.

Moxley refused to look back. Instead, he relaxed in the comfortable seat and asked, "They match the DNA?"

Roman nodded. "Guy named Bray Wyatt. Nobody's seen him around since about the time you were arrested."

Moxley grunted.

"Your lawsuit, by the way, is all but settled. I hope you're okay with eight million dollars," Roman grinned.

Moxley eyed his brother from the corner of his eye. "Eight million? Seems like a lot."

"They took five years of your life, Jon," Roman angrily snarled. "**Five fucking years**!" He took a deep breath.

"I know. I was there."

Roman forced himself to relax. "Sorry," he muttered. "Just makes me furious. Five years that I couldn't get you out."

"You did the best you could," Moxley interrupted. "Took time to get whatever it was that 'convinced' that cop and DNA guy to confess what they'd done."

"Yeah, well, their asses will be sitting in prison," Roman muttered.

"Good."

They rode in silence for a while as Roman drove the secondary roads to avoid any news trucks heading towards the prison.

"How's the family?"

Roman grinned. "All good, brother. They're down in Florida. Ever since my dad died, things haven't been well back in Davenport. Things need to be cleaned up, and I don't want them involved."

Moxley nodded. He knew Sika Reigns had more connections than anyone officially would admit. Roman's family would be protected.

"Oh, remember old man Rollins?"

Moxley barked out a laugh. "How could I forget that bookstore? I would never have gotten out of high school without that back corner and all those reference books."

"Yeah, he died. Funeral was today. His nephew or great-nephew maybe was coming back for the funeral."

"Kid left for college and never came back," Moxley shrugged.

"Sometimes he treated us kids better than he treated Seth," Roman quietly remarked. "For some reason, he and Dad had some connection so I was around a little more than you were. I don't remember him ever saying a kind word to him. Didn't go to Seth's college graduation either."

"Hate to see that place close," Moxley admitted.

"Rollins told me he was putting it in his will that if Seth didn't want to keep the place, I got first option to buy," Roman admitted. "Either way things are going to get messy."

"Why?"

"Remember Miz?" Roman grinned when Moxley began cursing. "Yeah, he kept trying to buy it from Rollins until Rollins finally threw him out and told him never to come back. I got a text while waiting on you that Miz was talking with Seth at the cemetery." He shook his head at Miz's actions.

"And then Rollins died? Think Miz had something to do with it?"

Roman shook his head. "Rollins had a bad heart and was on a ton of medication for it." He glanced at the other man. "His heart gave out while he was asleep so there was an autopsy done. I had it checked. Natural causes."

Moxley nodded. John Rollins had been good to him. He would've hated if the old man had been murdered. "So, what's the problem? You can handle Miz."

Roman grinned. "It's who's backing Miz that's going to make it messy. Look, we're gonna hit the highway in soon. Figure out what you want to eat, and we'll grab something."

"Just run through a drive-thru," Moxley shrugged. "I'd rather not run into anyone if the news has hit that I'm out."

"Good enough," Roman nodded. "We can order pizza when we get back to my place." He masked a smile at the eager look on his brother's face.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mr. Rollins, thank you for coming. I understand this is somewhat unusual, but I'm sure you'll understand the necessity." Damien Sandow shook Seth Rollins' hand and led him into his office.

"As I told you, I'm totally in the dark about my great-uncle's business affairs," Seth admitted. He waved off Damien's silent offer of coffee and relaxed into a very comfortable chair. "As far as I knew, he just owned the building where he lived and the bookstore is located."

Damien nodded as he sat behind his desk. "Six months ago, John Rollins purchased the buildings on either side of the bookstore. The one to the left is being renovated as a deli. His plans were that it would serve the neighborhood as well as being a place where people could sit and eat. The one to the right was going to be a study hall." He smiled at Seth's confused expression. "He'd arranged with some retired teachers to do some tutoring for students of all ages. An expansion of what he'd been doing in the bookstore." He opened a file. "In addition, he was renovating the second floor of both buildings into apartments."

Seth blinked. "I had no idea. He must've gone into debt to do all that. He said he'd never go into debt," he muttered.

Damien briefly smiled. "Mr. Rollins was my client; and in the preparation of his will, I became familiar with his affairs. Your great-uncle didn't go into debt. He was a fairly wealthy man who'd made sober business decisions and held sound investments." He held out a legal document of several stapled pages. "This is his Last Will and Testament. His entire estate, investments, stocks, bonds, bank accounts and all properties and businesses are left to you."

Seth's dark eyes widened. "He said he didn't believe in inheritances," he finally whispered. "Why…"

Damien put the Will on his desk and leaned back in his own chair. "Mr. Rollins was a very proud man," he quietly said. "Sometimes, proud men can't…say certain words. Sometimes, they feel circumstances will change so there's no need to say them." He cleared his throat and leaned forward. "That is your copy of the Will. In the Will, Mr. Rollins stated that if you don't wish to accept responsibility for owning and running the businesses…bookstore, deli, and study hall…and wish to sell them, you are instructed to give first refusal to Mr. Roman Reigns."

"Roman Reigns? I think I remember him? I remember him and my great-uncle having dinner sometimes," Seth recalled.

Damien smiled. "No, you're remembering the late Sika Reigns, Roman's father. Roman is running his father's business now. I believe he stayed in touch with your great-uncle. From what I understand, Roman would definitely buy the businesses if you choose to sell them."

"I met someone after the funeral." Seth reached into his pocket for the business card. "A Mike Mizanin. He said he and my great-uncle had reached an agreement that **he** would buy the bookstore." He reached the card across the desk to Damien who took it then tossed in onto the desk.

"I assure you, John Rollins had no intention of selling to Mr. Mizanin," he smirked. "Mr. Mizanin pestered your great-uncle until he threw him out of the bookstore and threatened to have him arrested if he returned. I would speculate, with a great deal of assuredness, that Mr. Mizanin was lying in the hopes of getting you to agree to sell to him. Which, according to John Rollins' Will, you can't unless Mr. Reigns declines to purchase the businesses."

"And Roman Reigns will purchase them?"

Damien nodded. "Mr. Rollins assured me of that, and I have no reason to doubt it." He pushed the business card back towards Seth who took it and put it back in his pocket. "My advice is to tell Mr. Mizanin that you can't make any decisions until the Will is probated. That will also give you time to decide what you want to do."

"How long will it take?" Seth asked.

"I'm named as the Executor, and you're the only beneficiary so all parties have been notified," Damien explained. "An inventory of all assets must be completed within 90 days of today. Your great-uncle was very thorough and provided such a list as of a month ago. It won't take long to verify and update that list, mostly to determine current market values on his investments. Normally beneficiaries receive their inheritances in four to eight months although since much of the work has already been done, I'd say this should all be settled in probably four to six weeks."

"What about the renovation work? I'm sure there's money owed to the contractors?"

"Your great-uncle set up a separate fund to take care of that," Damien continued. "I have authority to pay for the work that's been done and see that it's continued. You and I will need to meet at least every two weeks so you can verify all expenditures have been properly executed."

"My great-uncle trusted you a great deal, Mr. Sandow," Seth smiled. "I'm sure everything would be proper and legal."

Damien smiled. "Thank you for your trust. But it's not only good business practice but good legal practice to confirm every detail."

"Of course," Seth nodded. He saw Damien hesitate, and asked, "Is there anything else?" He reached for his copy of the Will and folded it.

"Your great-uncle left this letter for you." Damien slid a sealed envelope across the desk.

Seth stared at the envelope for several seconds then took it with a hand that was slightly shaking. "Thank you," he murmured.

"Are you staying in Davenport?" Damien asked.

"Yes, I'm at the Hilton," Seth nodded as he stood. "I need to decide if I'm staying until I make a decision." He stared at Damien. "I guess I should. The bookstore needs to be opened, doesn't it?"

Damien slightly nodded.

"I'll…I'll be in touch, Mr. Sandow. Thank you for…everything." Seth hesitated. "Um…how much is my great-uncle's estate worth?"

Damien smiled once again. "I can only give you an estimate at this point without having completed the actual inventory. But you should receive somewhere in the neighborhood of five million dollars."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Pizza had never tasted so good. Cheese. Garlic. Pepperoni. Sausage. Olives. Moxley didn't care if he was making a pig of himself. Five years without pizza was cruel and unusual punishment in his opinion.

Roman managed to keep from laughing out loud or asking his brother if he wanted to get a room for him and his pizza. He just sat quietly and enjoyed it.

The two men sat on the back deck of Roman's house which had once belonged to Roman's father. The large expanse of the back lawn included a large swimming pool, fire pit, and outdoor kitchen/patio. The evening air was a little cool for Roman's liking, but he knew Moxley was enjoying it so he settled in.

"I can't believe I ate all that."

Roman couldn't help but chuckle. The extra-large pizza he'd ordered for his brother was now nothing more than an empty box with a few pieces of crust. "I take it you liked it?"

"Best damn pizza I ever ate," Mox assured him as he settled back in the comfortable lawn chair and balanced the bottle of water on his thigh. He looked up at the darkening sky and wondered if he'd be able to see any stars.

"We've got an appointment with the attorney tomorrow morning at ten," Roman quietly spoke. "William Regal. He'll go over everything with you about your release and the settlement."

"Starting over from scratch," Mox casually commented.

"Which reminds me. I got you a cell phone. You can get another one if you want, but at least you'll have something to use until you do. And it's not something you have to take care of immediately," Roman commented. "Remind me to give it to you later." He felt Mox's eyes on him. "And you know you can stay here as long as you want."

"I know. And I will." Mox slowly sat up and swung around to sit facing Roman. "You've done a hell of a lot for me, Roman. Stop trying to make up for stuff that's not your fault. Or your responsibility."

Roman turned to stare at his brother. "Kinda hard," he admitted. "But I get it."

Mox nodded. "So tell me who's behind The Miz and why old man Rollins' bookstore is on your radar."

Roman sighed. "Remember the McMahons?"

Mox snorted. "You mean the Golden Boy and the Bitch?"

Roman snickered. "Yeah…well…their old man and mine were…competitors, shall we say. All smiles and friendly handshakes, but each one would've done the other in if they'd had the opportunity. The old man, though, got sick and moved to the south of France. For his health."

Mox grunted. "Who was after him?"

"The Feds for sure. Think he also crossed some other powerful families," Roman admitted. "Dad took over a few of his businesses, but basically kept out of the fallout. Shane overreached himself a few years later and took off for the Far East."

"So Stephanie's running things?"

"Her husband. Guy by the name of Hunter Helmsley." Roman eyed his brother closely. "Mean son of a bitch. Don't ever turn your back on him. For any reason." When Mox slowly nodded, he continued, "Helmsley runs things from back East, but has pretty much iron control. He started expanding about a year before Dad died. A little bit here. A little bit there. Some people sold willingly. Others didn't. The old editor of the Davenport Daily decided to do some digging. He disappeared one night. Six months later, the Daily's under new ownership."

"Shell corporations?" Mox asked.

Roman nodded. "Besides the Daily, Helmsley's got a couple of gyms and a martial arts studio, small chain of grocery stores, and a couple of high-end restaurants. His latest is the Davenport Star Hotel and the Davenport Diamond Casino. They're located right next to each other for your gambling convenience. Less well known is the high-class escort service he owns."

"How much of the police does he own?"

"Surprisingly not much," Roman admitted. "Chief of Police is Dean Malenko. Hired by the former Mayor. Squeaky clean with friends in high places. The rank and file think he can walk on water, and the public loves him because he's brought down the homicide rate and holds his people accountable. The current Mayor, however, would love to get rid of him."

"Who?"

"Paul Heyman. Most likely allied with Helmsley who, by the way, calls his operation 'The Authority'."

Mox rolled his eyes. "And The Miz?"

"One of Helmsley's men. Front man for buying real estate."

"So why old man Rollins' bookstore?" Mox mused. "It's not in a bad part of town but not in a great one either. Bookstore wouldn't be making much money."

"Not sure," Roman admitted. "But Rollins bought the buildings on either side of him. One's going to be a deli, and the other a study hall with tutors for students needing help in school."

Mox snorted. "None of them are going to be money makers. So why the interest? Miz doing a little business on his own?"

"Doubt it. Like you said, none of them are going to be money makers. And Miz's wife is high maintenance."

"Miz was always high maintenance," Mox grunted. He settled back into the lawn chair. "Think Rollins' nephew will sell?"

Roman shrugged. "After I drop you at Regal's office, I'll try to catch up with him. You can call me when you're done, and I'll pick you up."

Mox looked up at the darkened sky and saw a few twinkling stars. It was getting cooler, but he'd stay outside a little longer until he saw more stars. He knew Roman would stay with him no matter how long it took.


	3. Chapter 3

'_Seth. By now you've met with my attorney, Damien Sandow, who has explained the contents of my Last Will and Testament. He's an excellent attorney with an honorable reputation. His only flaw is that he thinks he's smarter than anyone else. Keep that flaw in mind when receiving any advice from him. By now, you should have learned to think for yourself. Make sure you do so even with my attorney._

_I suppose you're wondering about the amount of my estate. As you know, I was a frugal man as was my father. Neither of us allowed our hearts to rule our heads when it came to business and finance. Unfortunately, your father (my nephew) was the opposite. Although a brilliant attorney himself, he allowed himself to believe in the foolishness that took him to Los Angeles to work as a public defender. Worse, he dragged your mother, whose only fault was that she made poor choices at times, and then allowed you to be raised in such an unhealthy environment. All it got them was a couple of mentions in the newspaper as the latest victims of senseless violence.'_

Seth Rollins gripped the pieces of paper in his hand so tightly that he tore a hole in them. He'd always known his great uncle had never approved that his nephew worked basically for free and that his clients weren't 'respectable' as John Rollins defined it.

Seth took a deep breath to settle down and stared out the window of his hotel room. Although mid-afternoon, clouds had begun to obscure the sun leaving some of the neighboring buildings half in shadows. He glanced again at the words he'd read, now confused by what was written and how John Rollins had opened part of his bookstore to the neighborhood kids to give them a place to study and improve their chances in life.

'_Fortunately, you chose a career in education. While not well paying, it's a respectable choice and a worthy one. Stupid people rarely succeed. When they do, it's most likely because other were even more stupid or they're being used by smart people who prefer to stay in the shadows. When you see a stupid person succeed, look to find the smart person in the shadows. It could very well be a woman. My father gave me that piece of advice, and I pass it on to you. Don't forget it._

_The stocks and bonds are yours. Mr. Sandow has a financial adviser on his staff. I've been more than satisfied with the advice I've been given. But do your own homework so you don't lose everything. The bank accounts, except those established for the businesses are yours as well. Don't go hog wild and spend foolishly. Take care of that money, and it will take care of you. Even if you are an established author._

_Yes, I know about the books you've written even though you only told me about your first mystery novel. Mr. Colby Lopez, the mystery writer. I'm also familiar with Mr. Tyler Black who wrote the spy thriller. I've no idea why you didn't continue with those books. I'm also familiar with Mr. R. S. Gixx whose current efforts are those fantasy books although I've not read them. I have no interest in wizards, dragons, and the like. I suppose I didn't gush enough over your efforts as Colby Lopez for you to tell me about your other literary works. But it wasn't hard for me to find out although I appreciate your decision not to write under your legal name.'_

"Good Grief." Seth began to laugh. The main reason he'd kept his most of his writing efforts from his great-uncle was that he didn't want to hear the inevitable critiques and criticisms. He'd known exactly what John Rollins would have said about the fantasy novels. He was surprised the old man hadn't harped more on them in his letter.

'_As to the bookstore, the café, and the study hall – I bequeath them to you. If you intend to stay and run those businesses, it would continue the family tradition. Your grandfather and I opened that bookstore many years ago. It would be nice to keep it in the family. However, if you wish not to be involved in those businesses, my Will states you are to give first refusal to buy to Roman Reigns. I assure you he won't refuse and will make you more than a good offer. You might remember Roman. You and he were in high school together, and Roman studied in the bookstore a bit. Roman's father, Sika Reigns, and I had some business dealings together. I found him to be an honest man as long as it was in his interest to be an honest man. From what I've seen, Roman learned well from his father but appears to have developed a few more ethics._

_So, the choice is in your hands. You can stay and run the businesses or sell them to Roman Reigns. I suppose you could keep the businesses and hire someone to run them. That would be stupid and leave yourself open to being swindled. I certainly hope you're not that stupid. Your letters throughout the years have come from different places so I assume you have no fixed address. Perhaps it's time you settled down. You're not getting any younger._

_You have a place here. You always did._

_I'm proud of you. I love you._

_John Rollins'_

Seth threw the papers away from him and threw himself onto his bed.

'_I love you.'_

"Dammit, Uncle John!" Seth yelled. "Why couldn't you say that to me when you were alive?" He wiped his hand over his face. "Why couldn't I say that to you?" he whispered.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

The Penthouse Suites at the Diamond Star Hotel covered the entire 14th and 15th floors. The staff knew that only the Owner, Antonio Cesaro, could make reservations for those Suites. Even the manager, John Layfield, was prohibited from reserving them without Cesaro's approval. Cesaro would also handle the housekeeping for the Suites. Layfield had worked with the real owner of the Hotel on other projects and knew better than to ask questions.

The real owner was Hunter Helmsley who now, in fact, was ensconced in the Penthouse Suite on the 15th floor with his entourage. He'd come from New York to personally oversee the grand openings of the Hotel and the adjoining Davenport Diamond Casino even if it was from a comfortable distance. And to check on other matters.

"It looks like the Hotel's opening went off perfectly," Hunter smiled as he sipped from his glass of champagne. "Congratulations, Mr. Layfield."

"Thank you, sir." Layfield also took a drink of champagne and kept a straight face. He would've preferred a cold beer; but when the boss gives you champagne, you drink champagne. "Have you had a chance to look at the proposal for expansion?"

"I have," Hunter nodded, sitting his glass on the nearby end table. "Just opening and planning an expansion? That's rather ambitious, isn't it?"

"Perhaps," Layfield admitted. "However, property values are going to go up pretty quickly in this neighborhood. I think we should take advantage before anyone else does. Mr. Cesaro agrees."

"So do I." Hunter knew the only other person who might be interested would be Roman Reigns. Once it was known he was involved in both the hotel and casino, Reigns would get involved. In fact, he'd be surprised if Roman didn't already know. Sika Reigns hadn't raised a stupid son.

"Keep the Star as the hotel of choice for the high rollers or those who fancy themselves to be high rollers. Build a hotel close by for tourists and conferences attendees who might enjoy a little casual gambling." Hunter nodded in approval. "I like the idea of limousine shuttles for the high rollers and traditional vans for the others." He stood and held out his hand to Layfield.

The other man set down his glass and shook Hunter's hand. "Thank you, sir."

"I'll have Mizanin look into the properties," Hunter decided. "I'll take your proposal back to New York and run the numbers. Not that you haven't done a thorough job of that," he chuckled. "But just to make everything legal with the Board of Directors."

Both men knew the Board of Directors would do whatever Hunter told them to do.

"You should have an answer within two weeks," Hunter promised. "Again, congratulations." He walked Layfield to the door and opened it. He saw Antonio getting off the elevator. "Mr. Cesaro, I was just congratulating Mr. Layfield on the opening of the hotel and his proposal for expansion."

Antonio smiled at both men. "I thought the proposal had great merit." He exchanged a friendly nod with Layfield then joined Hunter in the Suite.

"How are things coming with the Grand Opening of the casino?" Hunter asked as he poured Cesaro a glass of champagne.

"Everything is ready for this Saturday." Cesaro nodded his thanks as he took the glass. When Hunter waved him towards a chair, he sat down. Sipping the champagne, he nodded in approval. "All the necessary paperwork has been approved and filed. All inspections have been completed and approved. All background checks completed, supplies delivered, and inventory control accomplished. We have our first three concerts confirmed for the Regent Room. Tickets will go on sale in two weeks. Security did their final checks yesterday, and we'll have a full run through tomorrow including the restaurant and snack bars."

"Excellent," Hunter nodded. "I have high expectations for this casino."

"You won't be disappointed," Cesaro assured him.

"Anything you need to run past me? Anything you need?" Hunter asked.

"Not at this time," Cesaro answered. "Oh, I saw Mizanin downstairs. He seemed a little put out that security allowed me to come up ahead of him."

Hunter smiled. "I'll deal with Mizanin." He stood and Cesaro also stood. He finished the champagne and walked with Hunter to the door. "Tell him to come up."

Hunter took the opportunity to finish his champagne and put the bottles and glasses away. He'd offer Mizanin a drink if he brought good news with him. If not, he could get a drink at the bar downstairs and pay for it himself. When there was a knock on the door, Hunter saw a man appear from the adjoining room.

"Enter." When Mizanin entered, he smiled. "Come in, Mr. Mizanan." He saw the other man disappear back into the adjoining room, Mizanin never having seen him. "Sit down. I'm interested in hearing your progress."

"Progress is good," Miz assured him with a smile. He settled into the chair and leaned forward. "I made contact with Seth Rollins after the funeral. I explained that John Rollins and I had come to an agreement to purchase the property but that he'd unfortunately died before we got the lawyers involved. I told him I understood everything had to be probated, and he agreed to call me once that was done."

"Sounds favorable," Hunter acknowledged. "How long will that take?"

"Depends on the Will and how much work the executor has to do with inventorying and evaluating the assets," Miz explained. "However, I have a contact in Damien Sandow's office. Sandow is John Rollins attorney and drew up the Will. Sandow is the executor of the estate and a great deal of that work has already been done. That would cut the time in Probate to between four and six weeks. However, I also have a contact in the Probate Court who will expedite the process to two to three weeks."

Hunter grinned. "Very good, Mr. Mizanin. That's very good news."

"I'll have that bookstore bought and paid for within the month," Miz predicted.

Hunter's face grew angry. "Bookstore!" he exploded. "What the hell do I want with a damned bookstore? I never said that! I gave you the address for that café!"

"But…you said the business and the bookstore's the only working busin…"

"Are you so stupid that you didn't even check the address you were given?" Hunter roared.

Miz gulped. "My apologies, Mr. Helmsley. I'll correct that mistake immediately."

"You'd better," Hunter seethed. "Now get out!" He glared as Miz hurriedly left the Suite. "Of all the stupid boneheaded mistakes…" He glanced up as he was joined by the man in the adjoining room. "Keep an eye on him. I want to know if he screws up again."

Randy Orton solemnly nodded.


	4. Chapter 4

Roman Reigns smoothly stopped his Lincoln against the curb in front of a multi-story office building. "Regal's office in on the 7th floor. Suite 701."

Jon Moxley nodded. "This guy your attorney?"

"He was Dad's. I sorta inherited him." Roman gave Moxley a grin. "He's smart and good at what he does. And he was loyal to Dad to a fault."

"Loyal to you?"

Roman nodded. "I trust him."

Moxley stared at the building for a few seconds then nodded and opened the car door.

"Call me when you're done," Roman casually called after him.

Moxley silently nodded then got out of the car.

Roman watched his brother enter the building and sighed. It was never a good sign when Moxley stayed that calm for any length of time.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Moxley silently rode the elevator to the 7th floor. He swayed from side to side, not liking the crowded elevator. He silently decided to take the stairs back down. Standing at the door, he stared at the lettering on the door. _Regal Law Firm_ Then he took a deep breath and opened the door.

The receptionist took his name and invited him to sit. Instead, Moxley walked to one wall and studied the paintings. It gave him an opportunity to overhear the receptionist speak into her phone. But all he heard was "Mr. Moxley is here".

Seconds later, a petite blonde-haired women entered the reception area and smiled in his direction. "Mr. Moxley? I'm Alexa Bliss, Mr. Regal's legal assistant." She held out her hand in greeting.

Moxley gently took her hand, feeling like a giant looking down from his 6'4" height to her barely-just-over 5'0" height.

"If you'll follow me." She led him down a hallway past two conference rooms and a couple of offices with closed doors. As she approached an office door with William Regal's name on it, she looked over her shoulder. "Would you like anything to drink? Coffee? Water? We've still got some pastries left over if you'd like some." She impishly grinned. "In fact, you'd be doing some of us a favor if you ate some. They're awfully good."

Moxley smiled in spite of himself. "Sorry I can't help you out. I just finished breakfast."

Alexa mock groaned. "Oh well. What's one more pastry in the grand scheme of things?" She tapped on the door. When a voice called out 'Enter', she opened the door and stepped aside for Moxley to enter. "Mr. Regal. Mr. Moxley is here."

"Excellent, thank you, Alexa." William Regal stood and walked around his desk to shake Moxley's hand. "A pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Moxley." After shaking hands, he motioned towards a side table. "I'd like Alexa to be present, if that's acceptable to you. She's done quite a bit of work on your case and can answer any questions you may have that I can't."

"No problem." Moxley studied the woman who closed the office door then sat between them at the table. _'Guess she just wasn't inflating her position when she said she was his legal assistant.'_

Regal placed several legal folders on the table and sat down. "I'm not certain what Mr. Reigns has told you about my involvement."

"Just the basics," Moxley admitted. "To be honest, I didn't know I had an attorney."

Regal coughed. "Yes, well, given the circumstances, Mr. Reigns felt some level of plausible deniability was required. Officially, my firm took evidence that Mr. Reigns collected and filed legal motions on your behalf as an interested third party concerned with justice." He grunted. "This work will continue as you're not the only person that bloody duplicitous old sod has screwed over."

Alexa glanced at Moxley with a quick grin.

"Fucking Detective Jack Swagger," Regal snarled. Then he caught himself. "My apologies, Alexa."

Alexa waved her hand. "I've called him worse than that."

Moxley managed not to smile. "What about the guy in the lab? Roman said he's going to prison as well."

"Oh, yes, 'Doctor' Zebulon Colter will be serving quite a long sentence as Swagger," Regal assured him. "It turns out he falsified his academic credentials. God only knows how many people have been wrongly convicted based on his ineptitude."

"But we're going to find out," Alexa solemnly added.

"Indeed we are, Alexa. Indeed we are." Regal took a deep breath. "Now, as to your circumstance, Mr. Moxley." He opened one file and slid a legal document across the table. "This is the legal paperwork vacating your conviction. As usual it contains far more words than are necessary, but in essence it states that due to new evidence being brought to the attention of the Court, you were wrongly convicted and are now released with your official record expunged of your conviction along with the Court's apology."

Moxley barely glanced at the stapled pieces of paper and grunted. A second piece of paper slid across the desk.

"This is the official apology from the District Attorney's office also signed by His Honor, the Mayor." Regal's voice dripped with sarcasm. "It's worth whatever you want it to be worth, but I would advise you keeping it. Just in case. I advise you to keep these documents in a bank safety deposit box. Again, just in case."

Moxley grimaced but nodded. He slid all the papers to one side. "I know Swagger and Colter are going to prison, but what about the D.A? And what happened to the old Chief of Police?"

Regal's smile reminded Moxley of the ones worn by some of his former prison inmates…just before somebody got hurt. "The actions of District Attorney David Otunga are under review by the Iowa Bar Association. He's been 'requested' by the Bar not to involve himself in any court cases pending the completion of the review. I believe he realized it was in his best interest to agree to that request. My sources tell me a Special District Attorney has been appointed. I anticipate that announcement any day." He leaned back in his chair. "As for the former Chief of Police, Mr. Bruce Pritchard, he retired. Reasons of health, from what I understand."

"Health, huh?" Moxley raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed."

The two men exchanged a level look while Alexa slowly smiled.

"This is your new driver's license as well as your motorcycle operator's license. Because your conviction was vacated, new licenses have been issued." Regal half-smiled. "The pictures were taken from your old licenses."

"Surprised they didn't use my mug shot," Moxley muttered as he put the licenses into his wallet.

Alexa choked back a laugh.

"Where **is** my motorcycle, anyway? The cops claimed it was the 'getaway vehicle' and impounded it."

"After the trial, it was sold at a police auction," Regal explained. "I'm in the process of tracking it down, but it appears it's been sold several times."

Moxley briefly closed his eyes. "Don't bother," he finally spoke. "Wouldn't be the same."

Alexa grimaced and glanced at Regal.

Regal cleared his throat. "This is the paperwork regarding the financial settlement. Please understand, this is what the City of Davenport is offering. If you feel it's not enough, I'll be more than happy to go back for more. Once you sign, however, you can't go back for more."

Moxley looked at the paperwork that came across the table. He slowly flipped through the pages. "Eight million," he murmured. After several minutes, he shrugged. "As long as I get it all at one time, I'm good with it."

Regal grinned. "As specified on page two." He reached a pen across the table. "Once you sign the agreement, I'll file the paperwork. The money will be available within one week. And I've been authorized to hand you a certified check for 10% of this amount upon your signature. I suggest you get to a bank and open an account immediately. Advise me of the account number for the transfer of the balance."

Moxley's blue eyes widened momentarily. "That would be eight hundred grand? Right now?"

Regal nodded, his own blue eyes twinkling.

"Yeah, next stop is the bank," Moxley muttered. He took the pen and signed his name to both copies of the paperwork. "Uh…Roman didn't mention how you'd get your fee. Are they going to cut you a separate check or do I…"

Regal held up his hand. "My firm is doing this pro bono. The money is entirely yours." He saw the suspicion in Moxley's eyes and smiled. "As I said, you're not the only person that Swagger and Colter screwed over. At my age, you sometimes do things for the good of your soul."

'_More like there's a personal reason to go after Swagger and Colter.'_ Moxley silently nodded.

Regal took Moxley's copies of all the paperwork and slid them into a legal sized envelope. Then he handed Moxley the check.

As Moxley stared at it, he was aware of the phone on Regal's desk ringing. Regal walked over to answer it and spoke quietly into the receiver.

Alexa gently touched Moxley's arm. "Sure you don't want anything to drink?" she quietly asked.

Moxley shook his head. "No." He took a deep breath. "No, thanks. It's just…"

Alexa smiled and patted his arm.

"Bloody hell!"

Startled, both Moxley and Alexa looked at Regal who was glaring down at his desk.

Regal looked at Moxley. "There are two Homicide detectives in the reception area requesting to speak with you. No one in this office told anyone of your appointment today, and I'm sure Mr. Reigns didn't blab about it. Somebody's keeping tabs on you, lad."

Moxley's jaw clenched.

"Alexa, escort Mr. Moxley out through the back hallway. I'll…"

"No. I'm not running." Moxley carefully put the check into the envelope and closed it. "I don't want to talk with them today, but I'm not running from them."

Regal nodded with a bit of approval. "Very well. Let's see who we're dealing with, shall we?"

As Regal donned his suit coat and Alexa touched up her blonde hair, Moxley texted Roman.

'_Done with legal stuff. Pick me up when you can. Coffee shop next door.'_

He put the legal envelope into his jacket pocket then followed Regal and Alexa to the reception area.

"I'm William Regal, Mr. Moxley's attorney," Regal said when he entered the room. "And the two of you are?"

"Mr. Regal. I'm Detective John Cena, and this is my partner, Detective A. J. Styles." Cena handed their cards to Regal.

"Hmm…Homicide Division. Second Precinct," Regal grunted. "This is my legal assistant, Ms. Bliss; and this is my client, Mr. Moxley."

"Mr. Moxley, we've been assigned to investigate the murder…"

"Yes, I'm sure you have," Regal interrupted. "My client is unavailable today. As you can imagine, he's putting his life back together. And you will only speak with him in the presence of either myself or Ms. Bliss."

Cena nodded. "Understood. However, we **do** need to speak with your client as soon as possible."

"Tomorrow. Assuming you're working Saturday?" Regal politely asked.

"Guess we are," Styles wryly commented.

Regal glanced at Moxley. "What time is convenient for you, sir?"

Moxley shrugged.

"Very well, then," Regal decided. "Eleven tomorrow morning. Here."

Cena nodded. "Thank you."

"Oh, Detective Cena?" When Cena stopped, Regal continued, "My client's wrongful conviction has been vacated. That means he never committed any crime. So, surveillance of my client is unwarranted and will cease immediately. Otherwise, there will be a second lawsuit on his behalf. Do I make myself understood?" Regal's soft voice held more than a hint of steel.

"Understood," Styles nodded. "In our defense, we needed to know how to make contact with him for questioning."

"Through his attorney, Detective Styles. That should have been obvious."

"Mr. Moxley won't be under any further surveillance, Mr. Regal. You have my word," Cena promised.

"Until tomorrow morning, gentlemen." Regal pointedly glanced at the office door and watched them leave. He turned to the receptionist's desk and found two business cards. He handed them to Moxley. "If you're contacted again, call either myself or Alexa."

Moxley nodded. "Yeah, I remember the drill." Putting the cards into his pocket, he then shook hands with Regal then with Alexa. "Thanks for everything. Guess I'll see you tomorrow at eleven."

"Get to the bank as soon as you can," Regal advised. "If the police are starting a new investigation, the news will be breaking soon about your release."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Seth Rollins found himself wandering around the bookstore, lost in memories. This had been his childhood refuge. A place where he could disappear among the books and live out adventures and learn about everything. Everything except how to understand John Rollins.

Seth sighed then sat behind the counter. Since college, he'd spent his life wandering the country. He'd lived his first year from college in Denver writing and playing tourist. Then Phoenix. Then New Orleans. Now in Chicago. He had two months left on his lease there. It wouldn't be a financial burden to break the lease early and have his belongings shipped back to Davenport. He was on excellent terms with his landlord who'd become a hero to his grandchildren because of some insider knowledge into the world S. R. Gixx.

He began a list of things to do if he decided to keep the bookstore and open the café and study hall.

_Find names and contact info for employees and anyone going to work in café and study hall._

_Find names and contact info for contractors working on café and study hall. Get idea of project status and completion dates._

_Schedule meeting with Sandow to…_

Seth began chewing on the end of the pen. He had to make a decision. Too many people were depending upon that decision. Whether he decided to run the businesses or sell them, these people deserved to know what was going on.

He was startled to hear tapping on the front door. He looked up to see a tall man with dark hair neatly pulled back into a bun at the nape of his neck.

Seth walked to the door and unlocked it. Opening it slightly, he said, "I'm sorry. We're not open today."

The man smiled. "I didn't think so. But I was driving by and saw you through the window. My name is Roman Reigns."

"Oh." Seth hesitated, then stepped back. "Please come in. I'm Seth Rollins." He closed and locked the door. When he turned, he saw Roman holding out his hand. With a smile, he shook it.

"I won't be long," Roman assured him. "I just wanted to give you my condolences on the death of your great-uncle. He and my father were associates and maybe you could even call them friends. I'm sorry I wasn't at the funeral yesterday, but I was out of town dealing with a family issue."

"Thank you and no apology necessary." Seth briefly chewed his bottom lip. "I haven't made any decision about…"

Roman waved his hand. "It's a big decision. Take your time."

"If I **did** sell to you, would you keep the bookstore open? What about the café and study hall?"

"Oh, the bookstore would definitely stay open," Roman chuckled. "My brother would probably punch my lights out if I sold it. We both spent time here in the back studying." He exchanged a grin with Seth. "As for the café and study hall, I'd continue with what your great-uncle had planned. No changes."

Seth nodded. "That helps a lot. Actually, it's a little overwhelming."

Roman scratched his jaw. "Well, if you **were** to keep the businesses, what would you like to do?"

Seth shrugged. "The bookstore would stay as it is. The deli? Once a menu's selected, I guess it'll be okay." He grinned. "But the study hall? I wouldn't want some prefab desks and chairs. I'd like to have **real** furniture. Like Uncle John put in the back for kids who are studying. Sturdy stuff. But I don't even know who made it."

"Guy who did it retired years ago. Name was Ben Dawson," Roman recalled. "Arthritis made it impossible for him to do the work because he did as much as he could by hand." He saw Seth's confused look and explained. "He made a desk for my dad. Dad swore it was sturdy enough that he could've jumped on it like a trampoline and not broken it." He grinned. "My dad was a pretty big man."

Seth grinned. "Well, guess that option's out."

"Maybe not," Roman murmured. He saw Seth's look of interest and continued. "There was a guy who worked with Dawson. Dawson taught him the trade as an apprentice or something. Actually, he made some end tables for my Dad. Dad loved them and never stopped bragging about them. Good solid pieces. The guy's back in town, but I don't know if he'd be interested in getting back to into doing this type of work." He took a card case from his inner jacket pocket and handed his card to Seth. "But if you decide to go that route, give me a call. I'll find out if he's interested." He grinned. "Good idea, by the way."

Seth studied the card and nodded.

Roman frowned as his cellphone buzzed. He took it from his pocket and read the text. "And speaking of my brother, I need to pick him up." He replaced the phone and followed Seth to the door. "Once again, take your time making your decision. Hope to see you again, Seth."

"Same here, Roman. Thanks for stopping by." Seth watched the other man get into a car and drive away. He locked the door and walked back behind the counter.

Despite Roman's advice to take his time, he knew time wouldn't make the decision easier.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Moxley sat at a table in the coffee shop by the front window. The coffee was tolerable, but he was left in peace to watch people walking by. Watching to see who wasn't walking around but keeping an eye on him. But he couldn't spot anyone.

The cellphone Roman had given him rang, and he quickly picked it up. "Yeah?"

"I'm just around the corner."

Moxley stood. "See you out front."

He slid the cellphone into his pocket then walked out and casually looked around as Roman's car pulled up. He ran between two parked cars and got inside, closing the door behind him.

"Seatbelt," Roman reminded him.

"Yeah, I sure as hell don't want to get pulled over," Moxley grunted as he fastened his seat belt.

"Where to?"

"Bank. Whatever bank you use." Moxley grinned. "I got a check to deposit."

"They cut the check already?" Roman looked surprised.

"Once I signed the paperwork, Regal was authorized to give me a certified check for 10% of the total." Moxley chuckled at Roman's expression.

"You've got a certified check for eight hundred grand in your pocket?" Roman saw Moxley's grin and shook his head. "Yeah. Bank. Now." He chuckled and grinned back at his brother. "You're buying dinner tonight."

"Yeah, we probably should grab something and take it back or have something delivered," Moxley suggested. "Cops showed up at Regal's office wanting to ask me questions about the murder."

The smile on Roman's face faded. "How did they know where you were?"

"According to one of the cops, they had me under surveillance so they knew where to contact me when they wanted to question me," Moxley explained. He saw Roman's eyes dart to the rearview mirror. "Regal warned them off, threatening another lawsuit. I'm meeting him at his office tomorrow at eleven to answer questions."

"Who are the cops?" Roman asked.

"Homicide detectives named John Cena and A. J. Styles," Moxley answered. "Know anything about them?"

Roman nodded. "They're not locals. They came in just after Malenko took over as Chief of Police. From what I know, Cena was mentored by Malenko. Did a stint with the FBI then joined the Seattle PD when Malenko was there. Clean reputation. As for Styles, he's out of the Atlanta PD. Worked with Cena on some cases when Cena was in the FBI. Also has a clean reputation although he's known to walk close to the line at times. Pretty sure Malenko brought them in." He sighed. "Either they had my place or Regal's office under surveillance."

"My money's on your place," Moxley calmly replied. "They probably ran your plates when you picked me up at the prison."

Roman glanced at this brother out of the corner of his eyes. No, it was never a good sign when Moxley stayed that calm for any length of time.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming to this press conference."

Mayor Paul Heyman smiled at the audience of reporters. While they personally may not like him, he knew they loved him for the sound bytes that made them look good.

"Chief of Police Dean Malenko will open this conference. Chief Malenko?" Heyman stepped aside.

Dean Malenko stepped to the podium and eyed the reporters. "Thank you, Mayor Heyman. I'd like to introduce Special District Attorney Adam Cole. He's been appointed by the Governor to run the District Attorney's office." He held up a hand to stop their questions. "Any questions regarding this should be addressed to Special D.A. Cole after I've concluded my statement."

"Five and a half years ago, a murder was committed. Most of you knew the victim and worked with her. Renee Young, a reporter with the Davenport Daily. A man named Jon Moxley was arrested and convicted of that murder." Malenko made sure every member of the media's eyes were on him. "I'm here to tell you that Mr. Moxley was wrongfully convicted." He let the media scream out questions for nearly a minute until they realized he wasn't going to answer anything. When he had silence again, Malenko continued.

"Mr. Moxley was convicted based upon evidence that a Davenport Homicide Detective named Jack Swagger falsified. Mr. Moxley was also convicted based upon DNA evidence that was falsified by Dr. Zebulon Colter of the Davenport Police Laboratory. Subsequent investigation has revealed that Mr. Colter falsified his academic credentials and is not qualified to teach elementary school science much less work in a laboratory. Both Mr. Swagger and Mr. Colter have been arrested and face various charges. That investigation is under the control of Special D. A. Cole."

Malenko waited for a few seconds as he saw the media look towards the man standing to his left.

"The investigation into the murder of Renee Young has been reopened. As it is an ongoing investigation, I cannot and will not comment upon it. Mr. Moxley has been released from prison with his record expunged. As he is a free citizen, I remind you he has the full rights of citizenship and should not be harassed. I'm not telling you how to do your job. I expect you to do your job in a professional and legal manner."

"This deplorable incident has put a stain upon this city and this department. It undercuts the ability of the police department to do its job, and its credibility with the Court and the public. It will **not** be tolerated." Malenko eyed everyone in the audience. "I don't care if you carry a badge. I don't care how long you've carried a badge. I don't care who you are or who you know or who you're related to. This department will be held to the highest standards. There will be **no exceptions.**" He turned to the man standing to his left. "Special D. A. Adam Cole."

Adam Cole's blue eyes twinkled as he stepped forward. _'Wonderful guy. Throws me to the wolves without a second's hesitation.'_ He faced the crowd with a slight smile. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen."


	5. Chapter 5

Mox's choice of dinner was hamburgers and fries. Roman started to tease him about being a cheap date but then saw the look of utter bliss on his brother's face when he inhaled the aroma of the hamburgers. He shut his mouth and ate the hamburgers and fries.

Roman was clearing the table when Mox asked, "Where's today's paper?"

"Recycling bin downstairs next to the patio door," Roman answered. Before he could ask why, Mox had disappeared from the kitchen.

Shaking his head, Roman walked into the family room and turned on the television to catch the evening news. He frowned as he saw the fluff piece on the new casino which would be opening the next night. He'd bought some tickets for the event and planned on attending.

The next piece had him sitting upright in his chair. The Chief of Police was talking about Mox's case. He watched closely, eyeing both the special D.A. and the Mayor. Special D. A. Adam Cole looked calm and collected. Mayor Paul Heyman looked pleased. Too pleased as far as Roman was concerned.

"_This deplorable incident has put a stain upon this city and this department. It undercuts the ability of the police department to do its job, and its credibility with the Court and the public. It will __**not**__ be tolerated." Malenko eyed everyone in the audience. "I don't care if you carry a badge. I don't care how long you've carried a badge. I don't care who you are or who you know or who you're related to. This department will be held to the highest standards. There will be __**no exceptions.**__" He turned to the man standing to his left. "Special D. A. Adam Cole."_

"Huh. Drawing lines in the sand like that is likely to get you killed."

Roman looked over his shoulder to see Mox standing just inside the room, his eyes on the television screen. "This isn't his first rodeo. He knows what he's stepping into." He turned the television off. "Did you find what you needed?"

Mox shoved his hands into his pockets. "Yeah. I was looking…"

"Jon," Roman quietly interrupted him. He slowly smiled. "You don't have to explain to me. I just wanted to know if you found what you were looking for. If not, you could use my computer to do any online searches. You're not in prison any more. You don't have to account to me for anything."

Mox's shoulders slightly slumped. "I owe you my life. What's an explanation?"

Roman sighed and stood. "No, I owe you an apology. And saying "I'm sorry" doesn't really cut it."

"Apology? For what?"

Roman rubbed the back of his neck and began pacing the room. "I should've been told when you were arrested. Nobody told me. Not Dad or anyone else. But then Dad wasn't telling me how sick he was."

"Jesus, Roman! You were down in Florida worrying about your kid's life!" Mox protested. "She had some weird genetic mutation that hardly anybody knows about that was killing her and you finally find some doctor in Miami who can help. I woulda kicked your ass if you'd shown up here! Your place was with her and your wife."

"I should've been told," Roman firmly repeated. "About you. About Dad."

"Little Princess needed her Daddy. Your wife needed her husband," Mox argued.

"You'd been in prison for nearly a year when Dad died and then I found out," Roman mused. "It took another year for my baby girl to get better so I could get back here and put things back to right. Dad had good men but they were content to just skate along. The Authority had made inroards by then. If Dad had known, he would've put a stop to them."

"Think the Authority bought 'em?" Mox asked.

Roman shrugged. "I brought people up with me and sent everybody here down to Florida. Dwayne's their boss now."

Mox chuckled, remembering Roman's cousin. "Probably got their fat asses running up and down the beach twice a day."

'_Those that are left.'_ Roman absently nodded.

"Roman, I told you. You got me out. It took time, and your family came first."

"You're family, too," Roman gently smiled. "So, can we just say that I'm sorry and you don't owe me anything?"

"Can we say no apology is needed and I owe you my life?" Mox countered.

The two men stared at each other then both began to chuckle.

"This is where Dad would've smacked us both on the heads," Roman remembered.

"Yeah, and your Mom would've told him to leave us alone," Mox smiled.

Roman sat back down, pleased that Mox sprawled out on the couch. "I want you to take somebody with you tomorrow when you meet the cops." He saw the scowl on Mox's face and continued. "Things are going to get rough. The Authority's opening their casino tomorrow night. That's going to give them a hell of an influx of cash along with their new hotel." He sighed. "It's not like back in Dad's day, Jon. We could go where we want, and know we weren't going to get hassled. Except for the last couple of days, I've kept somebody with me pretty much all the time. Bodyguards take turns. Family members at times." He leaned forward in his chair. "Until they found out who killed that reporter, you should have someone who can verify where you've been and with who."

Mox sighed and nodded. "You're right. So who's got babysitting duty? And where the hell have they been the last couple of days?"

Roman grinned. "You'll meet them all tomorrow morning. They've been hanging back the last couple of days. Dad bought a lot of the surrounding property. They mostly live in houses around here." He saw the grimace on his brother's face and settled back in his chair. "While you were at Regal's, I went by Rollins' bookstore. Talked with Seth Rollins."

"He gonna keep the places open?" Mox curiously asked.

Roman hesitated then nodded. "I think he will. At least for a while. He definitely wanted to make sure if he sold them to me that the bookstore, at least, would remain functioning as is. I told him that I would because my brother would knock my lights out if I sold it." He laughed when Mox mimed shooting guns at him with his fingers.

"I told him I'd keep the deli and study hall just like his great-uncle planned," Roman continued. "That seemed to relieve him."

"But you think he's gonna keep them? Even though you wouldn't change a thing?"

Roman slowly nodded. "I can't tell you why I think that but…yeah, I do."

Mox shrugged. Roman's instincts were good enough for him.

"In fact, Seth was talking about putting real furniture into the study hall like there is in the bookstore," Roman casually mentioned. "I told him the guy who made that furniture had developed arthritis and retired." He saw Mox's blue eyes slowly narrowing.

"What else did you tell him?" Mox slowly asked.

"That I knew someone who'd apprenticed under Dawson and who was back in town." Roman managed to keep his voice casual. "That I'd see if the guy was interested if Seth decided to go that route." He nodded as though to himself. "Good idea, though."

"Roman," Mox groaned.

"You know Dad never stopped bragging about that desk you built for him," Roman pointed out. "And these end tables? They got mentioned to everybody who ever stepped food in this room. And that cradle you made for my baby girl before she was born? That's a family heirloom, man."

Mox shrugged. "I don't know if I want to do that."

"Fair enough," Roman nodded. "But you've got a ton of cash sitting in the bank. With more to come. You can do whatever you want."

Mox stared at his brother for several moments. "We'll see."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Seth Rollins sat on his bed, leaning against the headboard. This would be his last night in the hotel. He was moving back to the second floor of the bookstore and into his old room. He reread the text he was sending as three group texts to the bookstore employees, deli employees, and study hall employees.

'_For those of you who don't know me, my name is Seth Rollins. I'm John Rollins' great-nephew and I inherited his businesses. I would like everyone to meet with me tomorrow at 10am in the bookstore to discuss the future of these businesses. I intend to run them as my great-uncle wished. I look forward to meeting with all of you and working with you as we proceed in making my great-uncle's dreams come true.'_

Taking a deep breath, he sent the text. Then he found his Chicago landlord's name in his contact list and pressed the button to dial the number.

"Barry? How's it going? Great. Listen, I've decided to stay in Davenport. Turns out my great-uncle left everything to me. Yeah, shocked me as well. Can you pack up my stuff and ship it to me? Yeah, everything. Let me know how much, and I'll send the money. And I'll send you the balance of my lease. Yeah, I **will **do that. The address?" Seth stared out the hotel room window into the darkness. He'd honestly thought he'd never be doing this. "It's 315 West 3rd Street, Davenport IA 52801."


	6. Chapter 6

Mox heard voices coming from the dining room even as he reached the first floor of the house. He remembered Roman saying he'd meet everyone else today and shook his head in amused silence.

"Ow! What was **that** for?" The man's voice sounded more worried than aggrieved.

"You know what for." The female voice sounded sure of herself.

"Busted! Ha!" A second male voice sounded amused until he also exclaimed, "Ow! What did I do?"

"I'm not sure we have time for Naomi to list all that," Roman drily spoke.

The laughter stopped when Mox appeared in the doorway.

The only woman in the room dramatically sighed and walked to meet him. She smiled and held out her hand. "You wouldn't know it from their lack of manners, but they **do** know better. I'm Naomi. You must be Jon Moxley."

"Yeah." Mox gently shook her hand, surprised by the firmness of her grip.

"Take a seat. I'll get you a plate. Little of everything?"

"Sure, that's fine. Thanks." Mox walked towards the empty chair next to Roman.

"Baby, can you refill my plate?"

Naomi casually smacked the back of the head of the man holding up his plate. "Nothing wrong with your legs, Jimmy. Fill your own damn plate."

Roman cut off the snickering by motioning towards Mox. "This is my brother, Jon Moxley. Been my brother since we were kids. Mox, these are the people I mentioned last night. Chris Jericho."

The blonde-haired man at the other end of the table waved his fingers. "Glad to meet you. Roman's talked a lot about you."

"On his left is Aleister Black."

Black silently nodded his head, and Mox returned the gesture.

"They're my business advisers," Roman added.

Mox acknowledged that Jericho's open friendly expression was a façade. Black, however, coldly studied Mox for a few seconds then returned his attention to his plate of food. Mox knew both men were calculating just how much of a threat he could be to Roman. He idly wondered if they knew he was doing the same to them. Trust wasn't something that would come easily to any of them.

"Here you go." A plate of food was set in front of him along with a cup of coffee. "Roman said you like your coffee black with just a little cream. Hope I got it right."

"It's perfect," Mox smiled. "Thank you, Naomi."

Naomi swatted the back of the head of the man who'd held up his plate for a refill. "And **that** is what manners look like."

The man rubbed the back of his head while the others snickered.

"Ali. Ricochet. You guys ready?"

"Ali and Ricochet drew the job of accompanying Naomi and Cia on their shopping trip." Roman's grey eyes twinkled as both men got to their feet.

"And why is that?" The man stopped rubbing the back of his head. "After all, they're **our** wives."

Mox suddenly realized that the man speaking and the one sitting next to him were identical twins.

"Jimmy and Jey Uso, my second cousins from Florida. Jimmy's the one with the sore head and is married to Naomi." Roman's grey eyes twinkled. "And Naomi **asked** for them."

Ali's dark eyes twinkled in amusement.

"Ali and Ricochet won't roll their eyes and make snide comments." Naomi put her hands on her hips. "Not to mention they won't bitch about the cost every five minutes."

Ricochet looked like he wanted to bust out laughing but restrained himself. Mox munched on a slide of bacon and gave him silent props for accomplishing that feat.

Jey glanced at the two men and grumbled, "You two sure drew hazardous duty."

Ali solemnly put a hand over his heart. "Allah will protect us."

Naomi leaned over and swatted Jey on the back of his head.

"Hey, you hit the wrong twin!" Jey protested.

"No, I didn't." Naomi looked at Aleister. "Zelina tell you she's coming with us?"

Aleister calmly nodded. "She did. I told her to enjoy herself although I could not imagine how her beauty could possibly be enhanced."

"Bastard," Jimmy hissed across the table. This time he ducked Naomi's swat.

They heard Ricochet snickering as the two men followed Naomi out of the room.

"This is why we can't win," Jey complained. "The women stick together, and you guys throw us under the bus."

"Happy wife, happy life," Jericho chuckled. "Live and learn, junior." He stood and glanced at Aleister. "Join me when you're done." He glanced at Roman. "We've got a few things to check on for tonight. Talk later?"

Roman nodded as Aleister finished his coffee and stood to follow Jericho out of the room.

Jimmy nudged his twin. "Let's go the gym. Might as well get the frustration out of our system before we see the bills."

The large man sitting next to Roman chuckled under his breath. "Since I've been the good boy and completely overlooked, I'll introduce myself. I'm Joe Seanoa. People call me Samoa Joe." He glanced at Roman with a grin. "Roman's cousin of a cousin of a cousin…"

"Through marriage," Roman laughed. "It's all family." He rose and patted Mox's shoulder. "Let me know how things turn out, okay?"

Mox silently nodded and reached for the strawberry jam.

"See you guys later. I'll be in my office."

Joe leaned back in his chair as Roman walked out of the dining room. "Realize my being with you is kind of a pain in the ass, but you understand why, don't you?"

Mox nodded as he slowly began spreading the strawberry jam onto a piece of toast. "Roman explained that I needed somebody with me in case I needed to prove my whereabouts." When Joe silently nodded, he continued, "Of course, you're also supposed to keep an eye **on** me."

Joe chuckled. "Of course," he admitted. "No matter what Roman says, he knows we've got you on probation, so to speak."

Mox slowly raised his eyes to meet Joe's. "No matter what Roman says, you guys are on probation, too. So to speak."

Joe slowly nodded in silent approval. "Roman said you need to be at your lawyer's office to meet with the cops." The last word was said with more than a measure of distaste. "Not interfering in your plans, but anything else you need to do?"

Mox half-smiled. "Would Roman have a pick-up truck in that big building he calls a garage?"

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Seth looked at the large group of people meeting in the study area of the bookstore. They'd come in groups so he hadn't had the opportunity to match faces with names. He finally gave up and just made sure snacks and drinks were available as people came in. When it seemed no one else was coming, Seth rose to his feet and cleared his throat.

"Thank you for coming. As you might have guess, I'm Seth Rollins." He glanced around the room. "I said that I plan on continuing my great-uncle's work so there's a job for everyone, and I hope you'll stay on." He glanced at the paper in his hand. "Um…Finn Balor? Bayley Martinez?"

"Present!" A hand shot up into the air, causing several people to laugh. "I'm Bayley."

"And I'm Finn." The dark-haired man sitting next to Bayley widely smiled.

Seth grinned back. "The two of you are down as part time in the bookstore and part time in the deli?"

Finn nodded. "Right now, mostly in the bookstore. But we've been helping Kofi and Big E setting up the deli."

Seth's dark eyes looked around the room and saw Kofi Kingston and Big "don't ask what it stands for" E Langston raise their hands. He nodded in greeting. "Okay, you four will work out your scheduling for the deli. Come to me if there's a problem. Otherwise, you're all adults and can work it out." He ignored the good-natured insults about being an adult thrown between them. "Bayley and Finn, you can let me know what your schedule has been at the bookstore." When they nodded, he continued.

"Okay, for the study hall. I'll call out a name. If you can respond and let me know the subject you'll tutor?" No one objected, so Seth began.

"Daniel Bryan?"

"Present, to quote Bayley." Daniel has shoulder length brown hair and laughing blue eyes that crinkled in the corners. It accompanied the wide smile on his face. "Geography. History. Civics."

"They still teach Civics in school?" Seth asked.

Daniel shook his head. "But they should. So, I'm hoping with some strategic marketing, we can get both students and adults into some classes." He hesitated then continued. "I'd discussed the possibility of offering adult education classes for those who want to get their GED, but your great-uncle was focused on kids' education."

Seth slowly nodded. "I like the idea of adult education classes." He was vaguely aware of excitement from those watching him. "Let's give that some thought as we get closer to opening."

"Yes!" Daniel excitedly fisted the air.

"Okay. Next is Tyler Breeze?"

"Here." Tyler, a blonde-haired man sitting in the back, quietly answered. "French and German."

"Jay Christian?"

"Call me Christian." An older man sitting in the front smiled. "General Science. Chemistry. Biology."

"Adam Copeland."

The man sitting next to Christian raised his hand. "General Math. Algebra. Geometry. Trigonometry, if anybody's interested."

"Beth Copeland."

A blonde-haired woman sitting next to Adam smiled. "Health. Biology. Because sometimes girls just aren't comfortable talking Biology to a man." She threw Christian a grin. "No offense."

"None taken," Christian grinned back. "Being uncomfortable goes both ways sometimes."

"Santino Morella."

"Present." A dark-haired man from the back of the room spoke. "Italian and Spanish."

"Natalya Neidhart."

A smiling blonde-haired woman sitting next to Santino raised her hand. "English and Literature."

"Xavier Woods."

"Right here." A smiling dark-skinned man sitting with Kofi and Big E raised both hands. "Computer. All things computer. From office work to programming."

Seth looked around the room. "Thank you. Thank you for wanting to do this in the first place, and thank you for staying around to help me take this forward." He took a deep breath. "I'm meeting with the attorney and contractors early next week to be brought up to date on the construction schedule. I'll then meet with each group to go over specifics. But as for now," he paused then grinned. "The bookstore will open Monday at 10am as scheduled."

Seth managed not to blush as the cheers and applause. Once he had the construction schedule data, then he could start thinking about real furniture for the study hall. They could use whatever had been ordered until he could replace it with what he wanted.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Mr. Moxley. Please tell me you're going to eat a pastry this morning. Please?" Alexa batted her blue eyes up at Mox in such an exaggerated way that he had to laugh.

"Just finished breakfast," Mox finally answered.

Alexa sighed, then glanced at the man standing behind him. "Maybe your friend?" she hopefully asked.

"Uh…sorry. Alexa Bliss. Joe Seanoa."

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Bliss." Alexa's small hand disappeared into Joe's much larger hand. "However, I've never had much of a sweet tooth."

Alexa sighed again. "Oh, well. What's one more pastry?" She smiled up at Joe. "Can I get you anything else while you wait?"

"No, I'm fine," Joe assured her with a smile. "I brought a book to read. If it's alright, I'll just wait out here."

"Joe's playing chauffeur for me today," Mox explained with a grin at Joe.

They'd reached an understanding over breakfast and found they actually got along. Well, as much as a fan of the Cincinnati Bengals and a fan of the Pittsburgh Steelers could get along.

Alexa glanced down at the book in Joe's hand. _The Art of War by Sun Tzu_. "Interesting reading," she commented.

Joe nodded. "I learn something new every time I read it." He exchanged a silent nod with Mox as Alexa turned to lead the other man down a hallway. He found a comfortable chair and settled in to read…and watch.

This time Alexa led him to a conference room where William Regal was already sitting at one end of the table, reading some papers. He looked up when Alexa led Mox into the room. "Mr. Moxley! Thank you for coming a little early. I thought it best if we were all prepared." He rose and shook Mox's hand.

Mox shook Regal's hand and sat down. "What can I expect?"

Before Regal could answer, the phone on the small table behind him rang. He turned and briefly spoke into the receiver before replacing it. "Bloody buggers are early," he grumbled. "I'd say they were watching the building and waiting for you to arrive."

Mox grunted and settled deeper into the chair.

"Alexa, would you escort our guests?" William's politeness was icy cold.

In the reception area, Joe had glanced up when the door opened and two men stepped inside the office. He returned his eyes to the book in his hands and silently snorted. He didn't have to listen to one of them identify themselves to the receptionist to know they were cops. He could smell the cop rolling off them. But he filed their names away in his memory. He ignored the one cop who casually glanced in his direction.

Alexa returned and led them down the same hallway as she'd led Mox. Her greeting had been frostily polite. And she hadn't offered them any pastries.

Joe placed his book on the empty chair next to him and reached into his jacket pocket for his cell phone. He quickly texted Roman. _'Cops just got here.'_ He returned his cell phone to his pocket and reached for his book. He idly wondered what Sun Tzu would've had to say about cops.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Mr. Regal. Mr. Moxley. Detectives John Cena and AJ Styles." Alexa formally introduced the two cops as she stepped aside to allow them to enter the conference room.

"Gentlemen." Regal shook hands with both of them then indicated chairs on the opposite side of the table from where Mox sat. Alexa quietly took the chair next to Mox and activated a small tape recorder.

AJ Styles grinned and brought out a mini recorder of his own.

"Very well, gentlemen. Proceed with your questions."

"As you know, the investigation into the murder of Renee Young has been reopened," Cena carefully began. "So, we're starting from scratch. May I ask your relationship with Roman Reigns?"

"What does that have to do with the murder of Ms. Young?" Regal asked before Mox could speak.

"We know Mr. Reigns was instrumental in getting your assistance in Mr. Moxley's case," Cena explained. "We're naturally curious as to why."

"I'll answer the question," Mox quietly spoke. He started into Cena's blue eyes. "Roman Reigns and I have been friends since we were kids. I call him my brother because that's what he is to me. He calls me his brother because that's what I am to him."

"And the late Sika Reigns?" Styles asked.

'_Guess he's the asshole of the two.'_ Mox's blue eyes moved to the other detective. "Sika Reigns was more of a father to me than the worthless bastard who fathered me. All **he** cared about was what he could bet on next. And like every other compulsive gambler in the history of mankind, he lost. And when he did, he took it out on me. After my old man left town ahead of the bookies looking to either get their money or his blood, Roman took me home with him so they wouldn't come after me. Sika took me in and made sure I stayed in school so I could make something more of myself that the poor excuse of a role model my blood father had been." He subtly leaned forward. "And Roman's mother did the same since my own mother split when I was just seven years old and realized she couldn't get money for her drug habit from a gambler who kept on losing. They took me in and were good to me. And Sika didn't hesitate to put me on the same tight leash as he put Roman on when necessary." He forced himself to relax and settled back in his chair. "**Nobody** disrespects Roman's parents in front of me."

"We certainly don't intend to disrespect anyone," Cena quietly assured him. "It came out during your trial that you knew Renee Young. Can you elaborate on that?"

Mox glanced at Regal who subtly nodded. "I knew **who** she was. Her face was in the newspaper along with that column of hers three times a week. She also had a show on the local public access station." He rubbed a forefinger on the table in front of him. "I was at Classy Freddie's Sports Bar watching NCAA basketball. Part of March Madness. I was sitting at the bar with a drink and some fries when she asked if anyone was sitting in the empty seat next to me. I said no & she sat down and ordered. We got to talking about the game and exchanged names."

"This was the first time you'd met her?" Cena asked.

Mox slightly smiled. "I was working as an apprentice woodworker. Making hand crafted furniture and learning the trade. She was a high-profile journalist. We didn't run in the same social circles. Yeah, it was the first time we'd met."

"But not the last?" Styles probed with an edge in his voice.

'_Definite asshole of the pair.'_ Mox nodded. "After the game, I started to leave. She asked if I was going to be there the next night to watch the game. I said probably. And I **did **go back. She was already there so we wound up at a table. More talking about each other than watching the game. That's when I realized she was asking a lot of questions about Sika. Like she was more interested in him than in me."

"Must have been awkward," Styles pointed out.

"Wasn't the first time," Mox coolly answered. "So, I called her on it. She admitted she was planning on doing an "expose" on Sika." Mox curled his fingers in the air mimicking quotation marks. "And she wanted my help. Told me I could be a hero by helping her."

"What did you say?" Cena curiously asked.

Mox shrugged. "Told her just what I told you. Told her to leave me alone. Then tossed some bills on the table and walked out."

"Never saw her again?" Cena asked.

"Never saw her **or** talked to her again," Mox answered.

"When was this?" Styles asked.

"Week before she was murdered."

"Mr. Moxley, did you have any connection with Detective Jack Swagger? Any idea why he would frame you?" Cena asked.

"Never met the man until he slapped the handcuffs on me," Mox admitted. "As for why he'd frame me, you'd have to ask him."

The two detectives glanced at each other for a few seconds. Then Cena stood. "That's all for now. Thank you for your time, Mr. Moxley. We'll be in touch if we have any further questions."

Alexa silently rose to escort them out.

"That was…short and sweet," Mox commented, looking at Regal.

Regal hummed under his breath, obviously thinking. "The questions about Ms. Young were to confirm or deny whatever information they already had. They already had it on record that you knew Ms. Young. Surely they didn't think you'd be so stupid as to deny it at this point?"

Mox shrugged.

"As for the questions about Swagger…" Regal's voice dripped in sarcasm. "That was expected, but completely useless. If you'd had any idea as to why Swagger would frame you, you would've brought it out at your trial."

He sighed and stood, shaking Mox's hand as the other man also stood. "Well, somewhat of a waste of time, I suppose. Although everyone got a good measure of everyone else."

Mox nodded. Cena was the good cop. Styles was the asshole.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

In the reception area, Joe didn't even look up as the two cops thanked Alexa who curtly nodded and walked back down the hallway. One of the cops glanced at the title of his book, then followed the other out. He quickly texted Roman an update.

'_Cops just left. Didn't take long at all.'_

He'd replaced his cell phone in his jacket when a smiling Alexa walked with Mox into the reception area. He put a bookmark in his book and stood.

"Make sure you call if they come around again," Alexa reminded Mox as she shook his hand. "And a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Seanoa."

"The pleasure was mine, Ms. Bliss," Joe smiled.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"You buy all that stuff Moxley said about Sika Reigns?" Styles asked as he and Cena walked to their car.

Cena shrugged. "I can see it happening. Looking at Moxley's record, he grew up in an area that didn't call either the cops or social services. If he was tight with Roman in school, could've happened like that."

Styles shrugged. "Think he didn't know about Reigns' business?"

"Most likely not as a kid, but grown up?" Cena nodded as he unlocked their car. "Moxley's not a stupid man. He had to have known about the rackets." He looked over the top of the car at his partner. "And if Moxley wasn't going to rat out Sika Reigns to a pretty blonde reporter…"

"Moxley sure as hell isn't going to rat out Roman Reigns when he's the man responsible for getting him out of prison," Styles sighed. "You recognize the guy in the reception room?"

Cena nodded, opening his car door. "Joe Seanoa. AKA Samoa Joe. One of Roman Reigns' heavy hitters."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Moxley slouched in the passenger seat of the pickup truck as Joe started the engine.

"Where to now?" Joe calmly asked.

Mox gave him the address.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Hours later, Joe casually strolled into the kitchen of Roman's house. He found Roman and the twins snacking on fruit, cheese, and potato chips. He grabbed a banana and sat down in one of the chairs. "Well, I had a fun day," he commented, knowing that Roman wouldn't ask questions.

"Oh?"

'_Yeah, Roman would respect Mox's privacy. But since I offered…'_ Joe slowly peeled the banana. "After the nonsense with the cops, we drove out to the suburbs. Seems this guy was selling this old beat-up barely-held-together motorcycle. Mox looked it over while I schmoozed the owner. Guy thought Mox was a mechanic who'd try to talk me out of buying it."

Roman laughed. "Let me guess. The guy had put an ad in the newspaper."

Joe grinned and took a bite of the banana. "Offered to sell for $500 or best offer. Apparently, nobody was buying at any price. Thing should be sent to junk heap." He snatched a grape from Jey's plate and popped it in his mouth. "But Mox wanted it. But he also didn't want the guy jacking up the price in case he recognized Mox's name from the news. So he gave me the money before we got there."

"Smart," Jimmy grinned.

"Offered the guy the $500, and he couldn't run into the house to get the title fast enough," Joe chuckled. "Loaded it into the back of the pickup truck and went to the DMV to get the title transferred. I turned around and sold it to Mox and got the title transferred again."

Roman made a mental note to call his auto insurance agent immediately to get Mox added to his policy. Even though it sounded like the motorcycle wouldn't be road worthy for a while, he knew his brother would get tired of being driven around.

"So you actually made a profit on this deal?" Jey asked.

Joe put his half-eaten banana on the table and reached into his pocket. He slapped a bill onto the table. "Yep. A cool buck. Told him it was a fair price."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

An hour later, Roman and the twins walked into the garage and found Mox kneeling next to what had to be his brother's new pride and joy. When Mox looked up at them, he was smiling and looked genuinely happy.

"Wow." Jey looked at the bike with wide eyes.

"I know. She doesn't look like much now. But when I get done with her, she'll take on all comers," Mox chuckled, running a hand along a flattened back tire.

Roman knelt on the other side of the motorcycle and took a long look at it. "Harley XLCH Sportster?"

Mox grinned so widely, his dimples could be clearly seen. "1958 model."

"1958?" Jimmy exclaimed. "And you paid Samoa Joe a buck for it?" When Mox happily nodded, he snorted. "Man, he totally ripped you off."

"Joe ripped him off? The guy who sold it for $500 did the ripping off." Jey shook his head. "Can you even get parts for that?"

"Gonna find out." Mox stared at Roman who shrugged.

"It's about in as good a shape as your first one," he admitted. Then he grinned. "Why not?"

The twins shook their head and left them alone in the garage.

"It was…perfect that I saw the ad in the newspaper," Mox quietly spoke as he kept touching the motorcycle. "Won't be the same as the one the cops took, but…"

Roman nodded. "Been a while since I got my hands dirty restoring a motorcycle. Kinda miss it." He stood. "Oh, by the way, I got you added to my auto insurance policy so you can drive any of the vehicles in here."

Mox sighed. "Roman…"

"Plus you'll need proof of insurance when you go to buy your own car. Or truck." Roman grinned. "And, in six months, you'll have a driving history so the insurance won't be as high when you get your own policy."

Mox stood and glanced around the garage. He eyed the various vehicles, automatically dismissing the limousine. "Guess I could test drive a couple before I go looking?" He eyed Roman, another grin starting to form.

Roman laughed. "You know where the keys are, Jon. Mi casa es su casa."

Mox nodded. He'd known that for years.


	7. Chapter 7

Antonio Cesaro unconsciously tugged at the sleeves of his tuxedo jacket even though his tuxedo was impeccably designed and fit him perfectly. The unconscious motion wasn't lost on the man at this side.

"Relax. Everything's under control."

Cesaro glanced at his head of security. While Sheamus presented the picture of the gregarious laughing Irishman to the world, he knew Sheamus had a ruthless streak in him that he loved to indulge. He silently nodded as the front doors opened and a stream of well-dressed people began to enter.

The Davenport Diamond Casino was open for business.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Roman rolled his eyes at the wolf whistle from Samoa Joe.

"Lookin' good, boss," Joe laughed.

Moxley leaned against the kitchen island and smirked in agreement.

"This is a black tie event," Roman reminded them. "I doubt I'd get through the front door wearing jeans and a t-shirt."

"It's a casino. You're a big shot who can drop a bundle at the tables. They'd let you in even if you were wearing a speedo," Joe pointed out.

Moxley burst out laughing as Roman slightly flushed.

"Wow, Roman in a speedo. I could get used to seeing that."

All three men looked up as Naomi walked into the kitchen, dressed in a bright yellow evening gown that hugged her curves.

"Hey, enough of that!" Jimmy Uso was right behind his wife and glared at Roman.

"I'm not the bad guy here," Roman protested. "Everybody ready?"

Naomi nodded. "I saw Aleister and Jericho heading to the garage. We're riding with Jey and Cia."

Roman nodded. "Jericho & Aleister are with me." He motioned Naomi and Jimmy towards the back door. "Not sure when we'll be back," he said over his shoulder to Mox and Joe. "No wild parties."

Mox mournfully shook his head. "Guess I better cancel the strippers and that keg."

Roman laughed as he shut the door behind him. His brother's sense of humor was coming back.

Joe chuckled as he got to his feet. "I'll be in the library."

Mox watched as Joe walked down the hallway then glanced around the kitchen. He knew Roman could've gotten him a tailored tuxedo in time to accompany the others to the casino. But it was going to be crowded there. He didn't want to be around crowds. But he didn't want to be…here either. He wanted to be outside…going somewhere…doing **anything**.

Before he realized it, he'd followed Joe into the library. "Know where to get a good hot dog?" he abruptly asked.

Joe turned from the bookcase, then smiled. As he replaced a thick book on the bookshelf, he nodded. "Actually, I do."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Mox stared at Joe for a few second. "Lin Sane's Sports Center?" He winced as a crowd of teenagers ran past them towards the mini-golf course.

Joe grinned. "Best hot dogs in town. Jimmy and Jey would disagree, but what do they know?" He led the way inside. "They opened up about four years ago. Couple of mini-golf courses. Batting cages. Skee-ball. Video games. And some old fashioned pinball games. Pizza & wings are decent. But the hot dogs? Primo." Joe kissed his fingers in appreciation.

Mox shook his head, wincing at the noise from the various games. Then he saw a short elderly woman approach Joe with outstretched arms.

"Lin, you look younger every time I see you," Joe greeted the woman with a gentle hug.

"Bah…you should have your eyes tested," the woman laughed.

"Lin Sane, owner of this fine establishment, this is my friend, Jon Moxley," Joe introduced.

"Pleased to meet you, Ms. Sane. Joe tells me this is the best place to get a good hot dog." Jon shook the older woman's hand.

"Tell him how you make them," Joe encouraged with a grin.

"Steam weiners. Steam buns. Thick meat sauce. Mustard."

Mox grinned. "There's no other way to make 'em. I'll take two." He glanced at the menu board. "And a root beer."

"I'll take two as well with a Sprite," Joe nodded. "Oh, I don't suppose you've added cole slaw to the menu? For my hot dogs?"

Lin Sane was probably 4'10" standing straight and tall. But, to Mox, it looked like she shot up to a good six foot tall when she glared at Joe. "You put cole slaw on my hot dogs, and I put you over my knee." She made the words 'cole slaw' sound like 'dog shit'.

Mox managed to keep from laughing at the mental image formed in his head by her words.

Joe put a hand over his heart. "One day, I will bring you my homemade cole slaw, and you'll weep at how good it tastes."

"Agh…go sit outside where it's quieter." She patted Joe's arm as she walked away.

"You sure it's smart to tick off the woman who's fixing your food?" Mox chuckled as he followed Joe outside to some picnic tables.

"I'll convince her yet," Joe snickered. He led the way to a picnic table where they had a clear view of the entrance to the Sports Center. They waited in comfortable silence until Lin brought their food.

Mox immediately stood and took the tray from her and set it on the table between himself and Joe.

"I…would like to speak with you," the small woman asked in a formal tone of voice.

Joe stood and helped her sit at the table. He glanced at Mox who quietly began distributing the food and drinks before sitting back down.

"A man came in today. Just after we opened," Lin explained. "He said my husband had agreed to sell him our business. I know this is a lie."

Mox and Joe exchanged a silent look.

"He insisted it was true, but he could not contact my husband." Lin looked at Mox. "He…has not been well."

Mox nodded and took a bite of his hot dog.

"He said I must sign it because my husband agreed." Lin took a deep breath then stared into Joe's eyes. "Then he asked if I was an American."

"Did this man have a name?" Joe quietly asked.

Lin reached into her apron pocked and gave him a business card.

Joe looked at it then glanced at Mox. "Mike Mizanin." He saw Mox's blue eyes narrow, then put the card into his pocket. "He tries to do this to a lot of people. He's not an honest man."

"He lied about my husband!" Lin angrily muttered. "And I **am** an American! I passed the citizenship test. I have papers! My son was born here. He…"

Joe patted her arm when she choked off her words. "If he returns, call me. I'll come right over and speak with him myself," he promised as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a card. "This is the name of the attorney I know. He's helped Mox here as well." He grinned at Mox. "I grabbed a couple cards while waiting for you this morning."

"This attorney…I don't know him." Lin stared at the card.

Mox held out his hand, reaching for the business card. "May I?" When she handed it to him, he took a business card out of his pocket along with a pen. He flipped Lin's card over and wrote something on the back. Then he handed her card back to her.

"When you call, ask for Alexa Bliss," he explained. "That's her direct number. But if she can't answer, it'll probably be answered by voice mail or the receptionist. Tell them you're a friend of mine, and I referred you to her. She'll help you."

"Either Ms. Bliss or Mr. Regal will help you," Joe promised.

Jon started to put the card and pen back into his jacket pocket, when Lin grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "Thank you. Thank you."

Mox nodded and glanced away.

"If Mizanin comes back, call me," Joe reminded her. "I may, however, be able to have a conversation very soon with him about this matter." He stood as she got to her feet. "Have you told Kairi about this?"

"No, I didn't want to worry her," Lin explained.

"I understand. But you should tell her. In case, this man contacts her," Joe advised.

Lin hesitated then nodded. "I will speak with her tonight."

Joe reached for his wallet, but Lin stopped him. "You do not pay. You and your friends are my guests."

Joe took her hand and kissed it.

"Mrs. Sane?" Mox waited until the woman turned to him. "Thank you." He slowly grinned. "This is a **great** hot dog."

Lin laughed and walked away.

"Remind me to put money in the tip jar on the way out," Joe said as he sat back down.

Mox nodded and continued eating. "What's the story on Mrs. Sane?"

Joe sighed. "About a year after opening this place, her husband started developing dementia. Subtle at first. Everybody put it down to forgetfulness and age. He's maybe a dozen years older than Lin." He ate quietly for a few minutes. "He's in a facility now. Roman's on the board and facilitated getting him in. From what I understand, his memory span runs about five minutes long." He glanced back at the Sports Center. "She goes every morning to see him."

"Damn." Mox drank half the bottle of root beer. "No other family?"

"One son. Joined the army and got killed in Afghanistan. Sniper fire." Joe rolled the bottle of Sprite between his hands. "His marriage was on the rocks before he got shipped out. When he died, his wife took their daughter and moved away. They barely saw her. She turned 18 about the time they opened this place. Came back and lived with them. Works here part-time and goes to college part-time. Majoring in business and finance."

"So why is Miz interested in this place?" Mox mused.

Joe shrugged. "Why is he interested in Rollins' bookstore? I'll let Roman know about this."

"Let me know when you plan on having that conversation with Miz," Mox said as he bit into his second hot dog.

"Sure you want to get involved?" Joe casually asked.

Mox silently nodded. "Miz was a pain in my ass back in high school."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Roman Reigns, meet Antonio Cesaro…Owner and manager of the Diamond Casino. Mr. Cesaro, Roman is one of our most successful business developers." Mayor Paul Heyman beamed as he provided the introductions.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Cesaro genially shook Roman's hand.

"And you," Roman replied with a smiled. "Congratulations on the grand opening." He looked around. "Looks like it's a big success."

"And quite a weight off my shoulders," Cesaro chuckled. "No matter how many times you go over plans and checklists, a little voice in the back of your head tells you that you've forgotten something important."

Roman nodded with a smile. "Well, congratulations again."

Cesaro nodded and turned to be introduced to someone else.

Roman sipped the champagne in his glass and started to walk away.

"Roman? Roman Reigns?"

Roman controlled the expression on his face and turned around. He started at the tall blue-eyed woman who'd walked up behind him. Then he smiled as though in sudden recognition. "Stephanie? Stephanie McMahon!"

'It's Stephanie Helmsley now, but yes!" Stephanie wrapped her arms around Roman who returned a one-armed hug. "How have you been?"

"Good. Good," Roman nodded. "I didn't realize you were living here."

"Actually, I spend most of my time in New York," Stephanie admitted. "But we know Antonio, so…" She turned and beckoned to someone.

Roman turned his head and saw a tall muscular man approaching.

"Roman, this is my husband, Hunter Helmsley. Hunter, this is an old schoolmate of mine. Roman Reigns," Stephanie introduced.

'_Schoolmate? Really…'_

"Nice to meet you," Hunter grinned. "Stephanie doesn't talk much about her school days."

Roman shrugged. "As I recall, we were all pretty anxious to be done with school and just do something."

Hunter nodded. "I remember that. Took me a couple of years to figure out I needed to go back to school. Stephanie here, went right into college."

"So did Roman," Stephanie smiled, linking an arm through Roman's. "Football scholarship, right?"

Roman nodded, casually moving a slight distance from Stephanie.

Across the room, Naomi nudged her sister-in-law. "You see that?" she hissed.

Cia followed Naomi gaze then frowned. "What the hell does she think she's doing? Who is that witch, anyway?"

Naomi set her glass down on the bar. Unlike Cia, she was involved in the briefings about the Authority. "Stephanie Helmsley." She saw Stephanie try to slide closer to Roman. "Oh hell no."

Cia sighed and followed. Sometimes Naomi didn't understand the meaning of the word 'subtle'. So she got ahead of her sister-in-law and squeezed in between Roman and Stephanie, wrapping her arms around his. "Roomann," she mock whined.

Naomi grinned and slid her arms around his other arm. "You've been neglecting us."

"Ladies, I do apologize," Roman seductively smiled at both of them. Then he glanced at Stephanie and Hunter. "Perhaps we can catch up on old times later."

Hunter grinned and nodded. "Don't let us keep you."

Roman turned with both women on an arm and walked towards the bar. "Now, ladies. How can I make this up to you?"

Hunter watched him walk away then chuckled at his wife. "Apparently they didn't like how you were hanging onto Roman."

Stephanie's blue eyes narrowed. "They were both wearing wedding rings."

"Well, unless Roman's gone in for polygamy, then they work for him or are married to some of his men," Roman mused. "Either way, they're keeping a close eye on him."

Stephanie coldly smiled. "That can't last forever."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"What the hell was **that** all about?" Naomi hissed.

Roman shrugged and motioned for the bartender. "Three glasses of champagne, please." He set his half empty glass on the bar. When the bartender had returned from their drinks, he led the two women to a quieter place near the roulette table. "I guess Helmsley doesn't have a problem using his wife to get close to me."

"Yeah, she looked real uneasy about that," Cia snorted.

"Trying to get some nostalgia going for your high school days?" Naomi shrewdly asked.

Roman nodded, seeing Cia's confusion. "Stephanie's father and mine were…competitors. We knew of each other but didn't really run in the same circles."

Naomi eyed the woman standing with her husband, talking with Mayor Heyman. "I'd say she'd be happy to run in circles with you now."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

After eating, Joe and Mox had hung around the Sports Center, challenging each other in the batting cages and playing pinball. As the left the Center, both men had put a twenty-dollar bill in the tip jar. All in all, it was one of the best nights Mox had enjoyed in a long time. There was no way Miz was going to get his grubby paws on this place.

Mox slid behind the wheel of the black SUV and started the engine. "I know it's kinda late, but you in a hurry to get back?"

Joe shook his head. "Someplace you wanna go?"

Mox shrugged. "Just…wanna drive around."

Joe clicked his seatbelt and settled back in his seat.

Mox clicked his seatbelt and began driving. Even though Joe's eyes were closed, Mox realized he was watching his surrounding from the slit in his eyes. He wondered if Joe realized they drove past the now-abandoned apartment building that had been Mox's childhood home. The elementary school where none of the teachers had ever reported the bruises on his arms and legs. The convenience store where he'd shoplifted small cans of food to keep from starving.

He silently drove in a large loop that found them passing an abandoned building. As they waited for the red stoplight to turn green, Mox studied the building. It was here that he'd worked for Ben Dawson, learning a woodworking trade. Making hand-crafted furniture. Solid. Durable. But with a uniqueness that came from being created by hand. Dawson had used some machinery to cut large pieces of wood into smaller ones. But everything after that was done by hand.

'_But you've got a ton of cash sitting in the bank. With more to come. You can do whatever you want.'_

When the light turned green, Mox slowly drove away. Two blocks later, at another red stoplight, he glanced to his left and saw three men standing in front of a darkened business. Rollins' Bookstore. "Joe."

Joe's eyes immediately opened wide, and he followed Mox's gaze. "Mizanin," he growled. He glanced at the dark windows of the apartments above the bookstore. "Doesn't look like anybody's there." They saw Miz enter the bookstore, and the other two men lounge against the side of the Mercedes parked against the curb.

The light turned green and Mox drove through the intersection. He opened the driver's door and slid out. "Drive around and get behind them. I'll give you ten seconds then I'll head towards them."

Joe nodded, and got out to go around the SUV. He got in and quietly closed the driver's door. He quickly drove to the alleyway and turned left.

Mox silently counted to ten, then pulled his jacket collar up around his neck. Shoulders slumped forward, he turned the corner. He lowered his head and walked towards the two men. He saw the SUV turn the far corner and start towards them. He carefully paced his steps until Joe got to the car and stopped.

Startled, the two men turned to face the SUV. "Samoa Joe!" one man muttered.

Mox slammed into the long-haired man who'd identified Joe. The man fell face-first into the side of the car. As he slid to his knees, Mox pummeled his kidneys with short powerful jabs.

Joe grabbed the other man and threw him down onto the sidewalk. The short-haired man held his hands up in a silent plea, but Joe planted his boot into the man's ribcage. He reached down and pulled the man's automatic pistol from his shoulder holster. He looked over to see Mox removing a pistol from his victim's back holster.

"Well, well, well…Bo Dallas and Curtis Axel," Joe gloated. "Just the men I want to see."

Axel spit blood onto the sidewalk. "What the hell? We haven't done anything to you."

"Oh, but your boss has. Hassled a friend of mine." Joe reached down and yanked Axel to his feet. "A **very good** friend of mine. I take that personally."

"It wasn't us!" Dallas protested in a high pitched voice.

"You're with Mizanin everywhere he goes," Joe grunted. "Maybe even with that pretty wife of his. So you take the fall as well."

Mox reached in and grabbed the keys from the ignition. Then he kicked Dallas in the kidneys again…just because the man's voice irritated him. "Put 'em in the trunk."

Joe caught the keys and unlocked the truck.

"What are you gonna do with us?" Dallas squealed as Mox hauled him to his feet.

Joe laughed. "You'll find out." He slammed Axel's gun across the back of Axel's head. Catching the unconscious man, he opened the trunk and heaved him inside.

"No…" Dallas turned, trying to escape only to run into a left hook from Mox that knocked him unconscious.

Mox threw Dallas in on top of Axel, and Joe slammed the trunk lid shut.

"Drive it around to the alley behind the bookstore," Mox said. "I'll send Miz out to you then drive the SUV around to pick you up."

Joe nodded. He got into the SUV and parked it at the curb. As he got out, he left the keys in the ignition. Getting behind the wheel of Miz's Mercedes, he adjusted the seat and grinned to himself. Mox was pretty handy to have around.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Seth looked up when he heard someone walking around the bookstore. He'd been sitting in his great-uncle's office studying the various construction plans and schedules in preparation for a meeting with Damien Sandow and the contractors next week.

He cautiously got up and walked to the half-open office door.

"Hello, Seth."

Seth jumped in shock as someone stepped out of the shadows. "Miz," he breathed. Swallowing, he caught his breath. "What are you doing here? How did you get in?"

Miz smiled. "I guess you forgot to lock the door."

"No, it was locked," Seth shook his head.

"As to why I'm here…" Miz reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out several folded sheets of paper. "We have business to conclude."

"Miz, I told you. Everything has to go through Probate," Seth protested.

"True. But since your great-uncle and I had an agreement, you can sign the papers so the sale can be completed immediately upon completion of the Probate," Miz explained. "I've made some changes, though. I want the deli as well. I've adjusted your compensation accordingly."

"Miz, I can't sell to you," Seth protested.

Miz sighed. "Seth, don't make me call in my…associates. I'd much rather do this in a civilized fashion."

"My great-uncle's will said that if I don't want the businesses, I have to give first refusal to Roman Reigns," Seth quickly explained.

Miz' blue eyes grew cold. "You're lying."

"No, I'm **not** lying!" Seth shouted.

Miz stared at Seth for a few moments, then shrugged. "He was an old man. In poor health. It affected his judgement."

"There was nothing wrong with his judgement," Seth snarled. "He threw you out of here."

Miz sighed. "Somebody's been telling tales," he said in a sing-song tone of voice. "I guess I'll have to call my associates in to help you understand what you're going to do."

"I don't think they'll be coming."

Seth's dark eyes widened as another man appeared from the shadows.

Miz spun around then gasped in surprised shock. "Moxley," he hissed.

"Hello, Miz. Fancy running into you." Moxley coldly smiled and took another step forward.

Miz stumbled backwards, nearly knocking Seth over.

Seth quickly ducked into the doorway of the bookstore office and watched in silence as Moxley kept backing Miz up.

"Surprised? Pretty sure everybody's heard that I'm out. Guess nobody told you I was sticking around." Moxley's voice was mocking as Miz's back touched the back door. Moxley reached out and jerked the papers out of Miz's hand. He ripped them in half then ripped them in half again before throwing them over his shoulder. "Don't come back here, Miz. **EVER**." He reached out and grabbed Miz by the lapels of his jacket and slammed him into the corner. "Outside." He held Miz against the wall with one hand and unlocked the back door with the other.

"I'm parked out front," Miz whimpered.

"No, you're not."

Seth stepped into the hallway in time to see the back door get shoved open and Miz thrown into the alley.

Moxley glanced over his shoulder at Seth in silent warning not to come any closer.

Miz stumbled against the side of his Mercedes so hard his knees buckled. He thought he was going to fall to the pavement, but someone grabbed him.

"Hello, Miz."

Miz looked up into the eyes of Samoa Joe.

"Let's talk." Joe whirled around and threw Miz across the alley. Then he picked Miz up and slammed him against the brick wall of the bookstore. "You and your boys hassled a good friend of mine. Lin Sane. She owns Sane Sports Center. Remember her?"

"Not rea…"

Joe used his strength to slam Miz against the wall again. "**Don't lie to me!**" he roared. "Remember her?"

"**YES!**" Miz yelled.

"Good, now you need to remember this. Mrs. Sane, her business, her family, her friends are all under the protection of the Bloodline and under **my** specific protection. Come anywhere near **any** of them, and I'll pay you a visit. Your **last** visit." He lowered his voice to a hiss and put his mouth close to Miz' ears. "And if that happens, I'll be very very angry, Miz. You know what happens when I get very very angry, don't you?"

Miz quickly nodded.

"Good." Joe stepped back. "Leave."

"Where are Axel and Dallas?" Miz asked as he sidled past Joe to his Mercedes.

"In the trunk."

Miz' eyes flickered to the trunk as he edged around the car to the driver's door. "Alive?" he squeaked.

"Open the trunk and find out," Joe advised.

Miz quickly got into the car and drove away.

Joe glanced at Moxley and motioned towards the other end of the alley with his head.

Moxley silently nodded and closed the back door. After relocking it, he turned and walked back down the hallway. As he stepped over the pieces of paper that he'd torn, he quietly said, "Burn those papers."

Seth glanced at the papers then hesitantly followed Moxley back down the hallway.

"Oh, and get better locks. And a good alarm system," Moxley advised. "Miz may not come back but there could be others."

"I don't know what's going on," Seth quietly admitted.

Mox stopped at the front door. "Your great uncle had bullet-proof shatterproof windows put into these buildings for a reason." He opened the door but stopped when Seth spoke again.

"Moxley?"

Moxley half-turned his head and rolled his shoulders. "It'd be best if you forgot that name."

"I think I remember you. From high school."

Moxley turned to look up and down the street. "Probably best if you forgot that, too." He closed the door behind him, briefly smiling when he heard the locks being engaged. He got into the SUV and drove away to pick up Joe.

Seconds later, Joe slid into the passenger seat of the SUV. As he clicked his seatbelt, he smiled. "That was fun."

Mox briefly grinned. "What about their guns?"

Joe patted his jacket pocket. "In my pocket so drive carefully so we don't get stopped. I'll put them in a bleach bath when we get back." He looked out the side window. "Roman's decided all the family members are to get out of town for a while. They're flying to Florida tomorrow out of O'Hare. One of the guys will stop on the way back at an auto junkyard. Weapons will be dismantled and buried in the junkyard. Nobody will ever find them."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Somewhat in shock, Seth picked up the torn pieces of paper lying on the hallway floor. "Burn papers. Better locks. Good alarm system."

He kept repeating those words wondering just what the hell his great-uncle had gotten him into.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Stephanie cheered again as she won another hand of 21.

Hunter leaned down and kissed her cheek. Then he felt his cellphone buzz. He stepped away and pulled it from his pocket. He absently frowned to see a message from Randy Orton.

'_Need to meet tomorrow. Miz screwed up.'_


	8. Chapter 8

Randy Orton nodded politely to Stephanie Helmsley who smiled and waved to him even as she continued talking on the phone.

"Sit down," Hunter smiled and gestured towards the table set with a combination of breakfast and lunch foods. "We didn't get back from the Casino until the early hours of the morning so we're doing a brunch." He glanced at his wife and chuckled. "She'll join us in a few minutes. She's finishing up talking with the kids."

"How are they?" Randy asked as he sat down and poured himself some coffee.

"Good." Hunter sat down opposite him and began spreading jam onto his toast. "Someone's grades aren't as good as they should be, though." The two men exchanged a wry smile as Randy selected some fruit.

"And the casino opening?"

"The opening went perfectly as far as I can see," Hunter nodded. "I'll get a full report from Antonio later this afternoon. But he seemed pleased." He grinned at Stephanie who joined them at the table. "Stephanie did pretty well at the blackjack table."

Stephanie chuckled. "I'm much better at cards than with dice or at the roulette wheel." She sat and mixed some fruit into her yogurt.

"So, tell me about Miz." Hunter's voice remained even but the atmosphere at the table became serious.

"Miz and his goonies paid a visit to Rollins' Bookstore around midnight," Orton reported. "Miz actually broke in."

"Oh, for the love of…" Stephanie shook her head. "Why did he do that?"

Randy shrugged. "From my vantage point, I could see a light on in what was probably the back of the bookstore. I **presume** Miz was going to have a talk with the new owner."

"Was he spotted?" Hunter demanded.

"Not by the cops," Randy answered. "Miz' goonies stayed out front while Miz went inside. This guy came from around the corner. Just walking along like he was minding his own business. An SUV came around the opposite corner." He shook his head. "Those two idiots just stood there yakking away with each other. The guy on the sidewalk slammed Dallas into Miz' car then took him out with some kidney punches. Then a guy rolled out of the SUV and punched Axel down to the pavement." He leaned forward. "That guy was Samoa Joe."

Stephanie glanced at her husband who was muttering under his breath.

"That means Reigns is involved," Hunter finally snarled. "Who was the other man?"

"Took me a while to get that," Randy admitted. "Name's Jon Moxley. He's the guy who was released from prison because it was proven he was framed by a dirty cop."

"Not one of ours, I hope," Stephanie asked.

Randy shook his head. "Nobody knows yet why this cop, Swagger, framed Moxley for murdering some reporter. A Renee Young. And from what I've learned so far, Roman Reigns was instrumental in getting the evidence to prove the frame."

Hunter glanced at his wife. "You remember this Moxley?"

Stephanie slowly nodded. "He was pretty close to Roman as I recall. I think he wound up living with Roman's family. But I don't remember why or even if anybody knew why."

Hunter slowly nodded then turned back to Randy. "What happened to Dallas and Axel?"

"Samoa Joe and this Moxley knocked them out and stuffed them in the trunk of Miz' car." Randy's blue eyes twinkled when Stephanie snorted. "Joe drove the car into the alley while Moxley went into the bookstore. By the time I'd gotten to where I could look down the alley, Miz had just been thrown out the back door and Samoa Joe began slamming him against the wall. I couldn't hear what was being said, but Joe let Miz get into his car and drive away. I ducked out of sight so Miz wouldn't see me. When I looked back down the alley, Joe was getting into the SUV that he'd been driving. Moxley must have been driving at that point."

Hunter frowned as he thought. "Miz must have been there to try and pressure Seth Rollins into signing a purchase agreement," he finally concluded. "The question is why did this Moxley and Samoa Joe get involved?"

Randy didn't answer. He knew Hunter didn't expect him to have the answer.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Roman stood for a couple of minutes, watching Mox carefully dismantling the engine from his motorcycle.

"You gonna help or just stand there watching?"

Roman chuckled at Mox's question. He walked over and sat down next to his brother. "How's it looking?"

Mox shrugged. "I don't think there's much that can be salvaged," he admitted. He pointed to a nearby bucket. "Can you start putting those into soak? I wanna see what the parts look like when they're clean." When Roman reached for one of the parts, he cautioned, "Be careful. You might get your hands dirty."

"Smartass," Roman mock-grumbled. He began carefully picking up the dirty pieces of the engine and carefully putting them into the bucket.

"Guy should have his ass kicked for letting this beauty get into this bad a shape," Mox grumbled.

Roman chuckled.

"How'd that fancy opening go?" Mox asked after a few minutes.

"Champagne was pretty good," Roman answered. "Plenty of hors d'oeuvres although a little heavy on the shrimp. Had to schmooze with a bunch of people. Formally got introduced to Hunter Helmsley. Stephanie hit on me. Right in front of him."

Mox stopped working and slowly stared at Roman for a few seconds. "In front of him?"

Roman nodded, fighting a grin. "Naomi and Cia came over and rescued me."

"The Bitch must still think she's the cutest trick on the block," Mox grunted, returning his attention to dismantling the engine.

"Only more sophisticated," Roman nodded. "Colder too. Probably heartless."

"Brother, she never had a heart," Mox pointed out.

Roman chuckled. "Joe told me about last night."

Mox silently nodded. "I tore up the paperwork Miz wanted Rollins to sign. Told Rollins to burn it. Then told him to get better locks and an alarm system."

"Good idea," Roman nodded. "If he's staying, he'll probably move back upstairs over the bookstore. If he hasn't already."

They worked quietly for several minutes before Roman quietly spoke. "Did Seth remember you?" He saw Mox pause for a split second before the other man shrugged.

"Said he thought he did. From high school." He reached for a wrench on the floor close to him. "No reason he should remember me."

Roman shook his head. "You saved him from being bullied more than once. I think he was scared of Old Man Rollins' reaction if he fought even if it was to defend himself."

When Mox silently shrugged, Roman dropped it. Mox still wasn't a man to be pushed.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Hunter replaced the receiver on the house phone and looked over his shoulder in amused surprise. "That was security. Miz is on his way up."

Stephanie looked surprised for a moment, then ruefully smiled. "This should be interesting. I'll leave the two of you to…discuss matters." She disappeared into the suite's master bedroom and closed the doors.

"Shall I stay?" Randy asked.

Hunter paused then shook his head. "I think I'd rather Miz feel free to speak honestly."

Randy's lips curled in sardonic amusement then he walked into an adjoining room and closed the door.

Hunter stood quietly, staring out the windows, silently evaluating the options that were running through his head. A soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and he turned around. "Come in." He smiled when Miz opened the door and walked in. "Mr. Mizanin, good to see you again. Although I'm surprised to see you so soon. You have an update for me?" He waved Miz towards one of the chairs.

"I do, and unfortunately it's not a good one."

Hunter had to admire Miz' aplomb. He didn't appear to be nervous at all. Unless you looked closely at the somewhat tensed body.

"Really?" Hunter sat down opposite him.

"My contact in Mr. Sandow's office has informed me of a clause in John Rollins' Will," Miz carefully explained. "Apparently, John Rollins specified that if his great-nephew, Seth Rollins, chooses not to stay in Davenport and take over the various business, then Seth Rollins is to give first refusal to buy those businesses to Roman Reigns."

"That is…unfortunate. Sika Reigns and John Rollins were…associates, if not friends," Hunter frowned. "Why weren't we informed earlier?"

"My contact wasn't able to review the entire Will until now," Miz smoothly explained. "Apparently, it's quite extensive with all the stipulations John Rollins included as to the disposition of his estate." When Hunter silently nodded, he continued, "It's well known that John Rollins was in poor health for some time. It could be argued that he planned to make changes to that Will but in his failing health, both physical and mental, he hadn't completed those changes."

Hunter slowly nodded. "We could tie it up in Court for quite a while," he admitted. "Not as good as actually owning that deli, but a possible alternative." He thought for a few seconds. "For now, go over all the zoning and business licensing ordinances. Find out if there's a reason to prevent that deli from opening. Then get back to me with a recommendation."

"Yes, sir." Miz immediately stood.

Hunter walked with him to the door, smiling as he showed him out. When he closed the door behind Miz, he walked to the bar and poured himself a drink. He wasn't surprised when both Stephanie and Randy joined him.

"The man's an idiot," Hunter grumbled. "He's botched this whole operation from the beginning." He tossed back his drink.

"He's been very successful in the past," Stephanie pointed out.

Hunter nodded. "But this is too important for him to screw up. And I've no confidence that he can fix it. By now, Reigns knows we're interested in that place and wondering why. And given his past association with John Rollins, there's no way in hell he'll refuse to buy those businesses if Rollins' great-nephew decides to sell."

"So, there are two problems," Stephanie pointed out. "Mizanin and the businesses." When Hunter didn't say anything, she continued, "Mizanin has a wife. A toddler daughter. And another child on the way."

Hunter slowly nodded. "So he does."

Husband and wife stared at each other for nearly a minute, silently communicating. Then Stephanie smiled and kissed Hunter's lips. "I'll be downstairs in the spa." She nodded to Randy as she passed him.

"Stephanie," Randy quietly spoke as he nodded in return.

Hunter pulled out his cellphone and dialed a number. "Shawn? I need a conference call with you and Ric. As early tomorrow morning as you can make it." He chuckled. "Yeah, I know with Ric that the word 'early' has a different definition from the rest of us. Do the best you can. Thanks."

He ended the call and pocked the cell phone. Then he slowly turned to Randy and nodded once. "Tomorrow."


	9. Chapter 9

"Mr. Colter, you've agreed to speak with us without your attorney present. Are you sure you want to do this?" Detective John Cena carefully studied the older man sitting across the table from him.

Zeb Colter shrugged. He raised his manacled hands in front of him almost jokingly. "An attorney is only going to put whatever spin on it that he wants. I've dealt with them on both sides of the investigation." He lowered his hands and deliberately stared at what he knew was a two-way mirror. "But if Special District Attorney Adam Cole wants to ask me a question, let him come in here and do it himself."

Cena's partner, Detective A. J. Styles chuckled. "I'm sure he will. But we've got some questions for you."

Colter shrugged again and waited.

"Why did you falsify the evidence in the Renee Young murder case?" Cena asked.

Colter leaned back in his chair. "I've known Jack Swagger his entire life. I knew his daddy. We served together in the Army." He glared across the table at the two detectives. "You two serve in the Army? Marines?"

"No, sir," Cena politely answered.

Styles shook his head.

"Figures," Colter grunted. "You think this 'thin blue line' makes you brothers." He raised his voice. "You become brothers with the man in that foxhole with you. Jack's daddy was a good man. Served his country. Then got spit on afterwards." He glared around the room. "Jack was a teenager when his daddy died. His mother'd run off years ago. He went to live with his grandparents until he turned 18, but I stayed in touch with him. I told him to go to college and get a degree in Criminology. A man like Jack was needed on the police force. I was already here in the lab when he graduated and joined the force."

"And Renee Young?" Styles asked.

"Jack loved that woman," Colter snarled. "I told her that she was nothing but trash and just using him. Getting him to give her information for that stupid column of hers."

"Did he kill her?"

Colter glared at Styles. "I just told you that he loved that woman!" he shouted. "No, he didn't kill her! Jon Moxley did!"

"You falsified the DNA evidence that framed Mr. Moxley," Cena calmly retorted.

"Oh, he did it." Colter dismissively waved his manacled hands. "People saw them arguing. Saw him angry with her. Threatened her!"

"No one gave that testimony."

"Then you're a piss poor investigator," Colter snorted. "Man breaks up with a woman, he's angry. Mad!"

"A man sees the woman he loves with another man gets mad, too," Styles pointed out.

Colter's eyes narrowed. "Jack was worried about her. He knew she was only trying to get a story out of that bastard."

"Why didn't he recuse himself from the investigation?" Cena asked. "He had a conflict of interest."

"Are you stupid? Everybody knows Moxley's part of that Bloodline gang!" Colter yelled. "They've got half the cops on their payroll. Jack knew Moxley would never be brought to trial unless he did the investigating!"

"And you falsifying the evidence," Styles pointed out.

"Moxley's guilty of killing that woman. And probably guilty of a hell of a lot more. And I didn't falsify anything." Colter leaned back in his chair. "No more questions without my lawyer." He glanced again at the two-way mirror. "And that goes for you, too, Mr. Special District Attorney Adam Cole."

On the other side of the two-way mirror, Adam Cole slowly smiled. "Already got what I need," he muttered. He waited until Cena and Styles joined him in the adjacent interrogation room. "You think Swagger killed her?" he asked.

"He was the lead investigator," Styles sighed. "He brought all the collected evidence to Colter. Would be easy to make sure nothing that incriminated him ever saw the light of day."

"I know the evidence was retested at the State Police Lab." Cole watched as Colter was led out of the interrogation room. "Matched to a Bray Wyatt?"

"Wyatt was some sort of street preacher," Styles grunted. "Spoke in parables and riddles. Had some people that he called his 'family'. Cult leader most likely. Hasn't been seen since Young's murder although some of his 'family' have been seen off and on."

"The defense is going to claim Colter's work was correct, and ours is wrong so they can throw suspicion back onto this Moxley guy," Cole sighed. "Send the evidence to the FBI. Have everything retested. I want to cut off that line of attack from the beginning."

Cena nodded. "We'll get it out to them today. You want to be here when we interrogate Swagger?"

Cole nodded. "Call me when you bring him over."

The two detectives watched as he walked away.

"You know, we have three viable suspects. Swagger, Wyatt and Moxley," Styles commented.

Cena silently nodded. "And who's to say that the evidence is so compromised that Wyatt's a suspect?" he sourly asked.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"And I tell you, she was **so** fine!" Ric Flair's laugh boomed across the speakerphone.

Hunter wryly grinned at Orton. "You never get close to anything other than fine," he chuckled.

Orton smirked and shook his head.

"You're an inspiration to us all," Shawn Michaels laughed.

"So, what's so important that we need to discuss at this ungodly hour of the morning?" Ric asked, becoming more serious.

"It's nearly noon here, Ric," Shawn teased.

"Ungodly hour of the morning," Ric retorted. "Hunter?"

"I need to make some changes here," Hunter crisply advised. "Because of that, I need to send two people away. Because of their…family associations, they need to be reassigned. It needs to be handled carefully. I don't want to fight an internal war."

He heard Ric hum under his breath.

"No other way?" Shawn asked. "Maybe reassign everybody?"

"That was an option," Hunter admitted. "But while reassignment may work for these two individuals, I'm afraid it won't work with the third."

"Permanent reassignment or temporary?" Ric asked.

Orton briefly smiled. Ric might seem a genial elderly man only interested in the good life of wine, women, and song; but he was as tough an individual as anyone would want to meet. He'd have no problem making a 'temporary reassignment' **very** temporary.

"Permanent," Hunter firmly said. "I actually think under the proper supervision, they'll become very good assets. Ric, you knew both their fathers. Do you think you can take them on?"

There was silence for a few minutes. "Dallas and Axel?"

Hunter looked surprised. "Yeah." Once again, Ric had surprised him.

"I'll take Dallas. I was very fond of Axel's father. That could complicate things," Ric stated.

"I'll take Axel," Shawn spoke up.

"Good. I'll let you know when they're reassigned," Hunter promised. "Thank you both. I think they have potential."

"We'll find out," Ric cheerfully answered.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"You've been advised of your rights, Mr. Swagger. Do you want to answer our questions?"

Jack Swagger studied the two detectives sitting across the table from him. Then his blue eyes flickered to where Adam Cole casually leaned against the wall of the interrogation room, arms folded across his chest. "Ask away."

"Why did you frame Jon Moxley for the murder of Renee Young?" Cena asked.

"I didn't. He murdered her," Swagger calmly answered.

"The evidence shows otherwise," Styles shrugged.

Swagger grunted. "The Bloodline owns half the force. You think they don't own part of the State Police?"

"I'd like to discuss that with you in greater detail," Cole spoke up.

Swagger stared into Cole's eyes. "Then you'll give me and Zeb a sweet deal."

"You and Zeb Colter falsified evidence against Moxley," Cole calmly replied. "Every case you've every worked, every case Colter's ever touched…those pieces of evidence are going to be retested. Moxley probably isn't the only one the two of you framed. Why would I give either of you a deal? You've betrayed your oath as a police officer, and Colter…"

"Zeb is a great man!" Swagger's voice raised. "You talked about him with respect!"

Styles looked at Cena who glanced over his shoulder at Cole.

"I'm done here," Cole announced as he walked towards the door.

"So are we," Cena agreed.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Seth had wanted to work in his great-uncle's office after the bookstore reopened. But after an hour of looking up every couple of minutes, expecting to see John Rollins standing in front of him with a glower on his face, he closed the files and went to join Bayley and Finn in the bookstore.

He was behind the desk, looking through the ledger listing rare books his great-uncle had been researching for customers. Seth started to make a list of the customers so he could contact them about the change in ownership, and if they still wanted him to look for their books.

"Excuse me. The young lady over there said I needed to talk to you about looking for a rare book."

Startled, Seth looked up to see a well-dressed bald man gently smiling at him.

"I apologize. I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, it's just that I was reviewing some information about rare books that my great-uncle was researching," Seth smiled. "I'm Seth Rollins." He held out his hand.

"Antonio Cesaro. Owner and Manager of the Davenport Diamond Casino." Antonio shook Seth's hand.

"Wow, you just opened up, right?" Seth leaned against the counter.

Cesaro nodded. "This past weekend. I hope you'll visit sometime. But, that's not why I'm here. First, my condolences on the death Mr. Rollins." He eyed the bookstore with appreciation. "I admire anyone who dedicates himself to books in this electronic age."

"Thank you," Seth quietly responded.

"As to why I'm here, I spoke to Mr. Rollins a few weeks ago about possibly looking for a first edition for me. Signed if possible. We only spoke briefly because I was heavily invested in the opening of the casino," Antonio explained.

"What are you looking for?" Seth curiously asked.

"A first edition of _Don Quixote de La Mancha_ by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra," Cesaro answered.

Seth whistled under his breath. "That's gonna be…"

Cesaro chuckled. "Almost impossible is what Mr. Rollins said." He shrugged. "I'm patient. I know what I want."

"Also going to be really expensive," Seth warned.

Cesaro pleasantly smiled. "I've no doubt." He slid a business card across the counter to Seth. "This is my personal number and personal email address. I'd like you to try to find it for me."

Seth nodded. "I'll do my best," he promised, taking the card.

"Thank you. I'll be in touch." Cesaro nodded and walked out of the bookstore.

Seth watched him get into a BMW that was idling in front of the bookstore, then watched as the car was driven away.

Inside the car, Cesaro clicked his seatbelt and comfortably settled into the seat.

"Mission accomplished?" Sheamus casually asked, keeping an eye on the traffic around them.

"Of course," Cesaro smiled. "I'll keep feeding young Mr. Rollins books to track down and become his friend."

"Get him into the casino and you'll wind up owning the bookstore," Sheamus laughed.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

The two men exchanged worried looks as the elevator door opened. Halfway down the hallway, Hunter Helmsley genially smiled as they slowly exited the elevator.

"Mr. Dallas. Mr. Axel. Thank you for joining me." Hunter indicated the open door to his left. "Come in."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Mike Mizannin was irritated beyond belief. His partner had been out all day and wasn't returning phone calls. That's wasn't all that unusual since both men concentrated on their business during the day and rarely returned each other's calls until later in the evening. But it long past time that his partner should have called him back.

And Curtis Axel and Bo Dallas had gone silent as well.

Miz picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number. "Curtis! Wherever you and Dallas are, get to the office **now**!" He slammed the receiver back onto the phone's cradle.

"They won't be coming."

Miz' blue eyes widened as he spun around. "Orton," he breathed.

The last thing he saw was the gun in his face.


	10. Chapter 10

A. J. Styles had barely walked into the squad room when two people told him that Chief Malenko was looking for him. Styles sighed. As he walked to the elevator that would take him to the fourth floor and the office of the Chief of Police, he silently questioned himself about what he could possibly have done to get called on the carpet in the Chief's office.

By the time he reached the Chief's office, he was positive he hadn't done anything…that bad. So, he smiled at Chief's assistant who silently waved him towards the inner office. Styles knocked once then opened the door. He was surprised to see his partner already sitting across the desk from the Chief of Police.

"Styles. Sit down." Chief Dean Malenko pointed at the empty chair next to John Cena.

As Styles sat down, he exchanged a quick look at Cena who slightly shrugged.

"You've got a new murder investigation," Malenko began. "I know you're working on the Renee Young case, but this is a hot one." He slid a file folder across his desk towards them.

Styles reached for it and opened it to see a photo of a dead body. "Jeez, somebody hated **him**," he muttered. The deceased had taken at least two shots to the face. There was just enough of an intact face to make him recognizable.

"Mike Mizanin," Malenko continued. "Hot shot real estate agent. When he didn't come home last night, his wife called Mizanin's partner. A John Morrison. He went to the office and found the body. Called it in about 6:30 this morning. Coroner estimates time of death between 9pm last night and 3am this morning. Of course, he admits that's a rough estimate based on a preliminary exam. He'll narrow it down after the autopsy. The victim still had money and credit cards in his wallet and wearing some expensive jewelry so robbery's ruled out."

"What makes this so hot?" Cena asked.

"Mizanin reputedly had business dealings with Hunter Helmsley," Malenko growled. "Alleged leader of The Authority."

"Great," Styles groaned. "We got one murder investigation with a suspect tied to The Bloodline and another murder investigation with the victim tied to The Authority."

"You think The Bloodline put a hit out on Mizanin?" Cena asked.

"What I think is irrelevant," Malenko replied. "It's what can be proven." He gave the two detectives a nod of dismissal.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Roman was half-listening to the local morning news as he finished dressing. He was humming under his breath, wondering if he could find the time that day to join Moxley in taking apart the rest of his new motorcycle.

"We have breaking news about a murder that occurred either late last night or early this morning. Real estate agent, Michael Mizanin, was found dead in his office early this morning by his business partner, John Morrison."

Roman spun around and looked at the television mounted on the wall in astonishment.

"The police have provided no information other than Mr. Mizanin was a victim of foul play. We'll stay on this story and update you as we have new information."

Roman switched the television off and grabbed his cell phone to send out a group text. _'Everyone. Library. NOW.'_ He left his suit jacket on the bed and walked down the hall to find Moxley. He needed to be in on this meeting.

Fifteen minutes later, Roman watched as his cousins entered the library last. Jey closed the library doors and leaned against them. Roman then glanced around the room. Jey. Jimmy. Naomi. Aleister. Zelina. Jericho. Ricochet. Ali. Samoa Joe. Moxley.

"In case you haven't hear the news this morning, Mizanin was murdered last night. His business partner found his body early this morning," Roman explained.

'_Good riddance.'_ Moxley kept his face neutral.

"Given Mizanin's business connections with Helmsley, the cops are going to be looking in our direction." Roman looked at Joe and then at Moxley. "You two had a run in with him just a few days ago. Anybody see that?"

"Seth Rollins saw me shove Miz out the back door of the bookstore," Mox calmly answered. "He never saw Joe." He stared Roman directly in the eyes.

While Roman hoped Seth wouldn't mention anything, he honestly didn't know enough about him to risk everything on it. He slowly nodded. "Anyone else?"

"I took Moxley over to Lin Sane's Sports Center for a hot dog," Joe answered.

Zelina and Naomi exchanged a quick smirk. The men might joke that it was hot dogs that caused Joe to visit the Sports Center so often. They knew better.

"Lin Sane told us Miz was trying to trick her into believing her husband into selling the business to him," Joe continued. "Moxley and I gave her Regal's card and told her to call him to make sure she had legal protection. And I told her to call me if he came back. She never called." He shrugged. "The two of us and Moxley were the only ones to hear that conversation."

"What about her granddaughter?" Jimmy asked.

Naomi silently promised to swat him on the back of his head once they were out of Roman's sight.

Joe shook his head. "I told her to tell Kairi about what Miz was trying to do. But Lin wouldn't have mentioned our conversation."

Roman nodded again. "Okay, be prepared for some additional scrutiny from the cops. Make sure you have Regal's phone number if you're picked up for questioning. You know the drill. Work your contacts to see what information you can get or what rumors are flying around. Otherwise, it's business as usual." As people began to leave, he raised his voice. "Naomi. Zelina. A moment, please."

"Sure, Roman. Be right back." Naomi followed her husband out of the room. A few seconds later, they heard Jimmy yelp, "What was **that** for?" Then she returned to the library.

Roman managed not to grin. "I need the two of you to do something for me."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"M & M Realty?" Styles looked at the etching on the front window of the realty company and chuckled. "Sounds like candy."

Cena briefly smiled. "Mizanin & Morrison Realty. Probably thought M & M Realty was a good marketing strategy."

Styles rolled his eyes as they ducked under the yellow tape across the opening of the building. Inside, the CSI crew were busy working. One of them indicated the path through the front office that they'd already processed. "If you're looking for the owner, he's in one of the back offices with an officer."

Cena nodded in silent thanks and led the way towards the hallway. He immediately saw a patrol officer standing guard and motioned him forward. "Has Mr. Morrison said anything?" he quietly asked.

The young officer shook his head. "Nothing besides he got a call from his partner's wife early this morning and came to the office to look for the deceased. Found him and called it in. He's been in his office doing stuff with paperwork."

Cena and Styles exchanged a quick look then walked into the office.

"Mr. Morrison? I'm Detective Cena, and this is Detective Styles," Cena introduced them as both detectives produced their badges.

John Morrison was a handsome man with long dark hair and bright blue eyes that were somewhat reddened. He stood and held out a hand. "Please sit down. I was just…" His hands fluttered a bit. "I was just getting some information that Maryse is going to need." He saw their confused looks. "Mike's wife."

"Can you explain how you came to find Mr. Mizanin?" Cena asked. He saw Styles bring out his notebook.

"Maryse called me about 5:30 this morning." John sat down and leaned back in his chair. "She sounded awful. The first thing I thought was that something was wrong with the baby." He saw a questioning look on Cena's face. "Maryse is six months pregnant. Anyway, she said that Mike hadn't come home at all that night."

"Was that unusual?" Styles asked.

Morrison half-smiled. "Mike cultivated the persona of a player. But he's de…he was devoted to Maryse. Loved her so much. You know how most men are proud to have a beautiful woman on their arm?" When the two detectives nodded, he continued, "Mike was proud to be on **her** arm. Everything he put into this business…everything he took out of this business was for her. Then for her and their daughter." He caught his breath. "God, Mike'll never even know this new child. They don't even know if it's a boy or girl. They said they wanted to be surprised."

Morrison took a few deep breaths. "I'm sorry. Uh…Maryse called. Asked me to go to the office. She thought maybe he'd fallen asleep here. But she couldn't get him on either his cell or office phone. I said of course and came over. I live outside Davenport, so it was maybe close to an hour before I got dressed and got here. The front door was locked although the alarm wasn't on. I called out to Mike and walked back to his office. I said something stupid like 'Maryse is really pissed with you'. Then I saw him…" Morrison looked through the open office door to the one across the hall where CSI investigators were working. Then he shook his head. "That's when I called the police."

"What happens to the business?" Cena asked.

"Mike and I had life insurance policies taken out on each other. Partners' insurance," Morrison explained. "Even though we're partners, Mike worked his clients and I worked mine. We made sure we didn't get into competition with each other. Mike worked commercial clients. I worked residential. We split the industrial accounts. Now…his half will go to Maryse. But, honestly, I'm going to make her an offer to buy her out. She's never been interested in the real estate business, and with a small child…two small children soon I doubt she'd even have the time to learn the business."

"How much was the insurance policy?" Cena asked.

"Each policy was for two million dollars." Morrison saw Styles' look of surprise. "Check it out, detectives. For this size of a business and our generated income, that's not out of line." He indicated a file folder. "I've got the policy here to give to Maryse along with the insurance agent's contact information. I'm going to sign it over to Maryse. She and Mike lived a good lifestyle, and I don't know their financial situation. I know Mike had a life insurance policy with Maryse as the beneficiary, but I don't know for how much. She might need this money, or she might not. But I can keep the business going. She'll also get the benefit of whatever deals Mike had in the works."

"That's awfully generous of you," Cena commented.

"Mike was a hustler, always looking for a deal to work. He could easily rub some people the wrong way," Morrison admitted. "But he always dealt with me fairly and honestly. And a few years ago, I went through some tough times. Six-year relationship went totally sour, and I…drank more than was good for me. Miz carried this business during those months and helped me get through all that. Making sure his wife and children are okay financially is the least I can do."

"We can get the life insurance information from Mrs. Mizanin," Styles advised.

"You might have to wait on that," Morrison grimaced. "When I called Maryse back, the housekeeper answered. She said that Maryse had worried herself so badly that she'd called their obstetrician. He'd just arrived. For all I know, Maryse is in the hospital."

"Do you have the doctor's name?"

"Yeah, I wrote it down when I talked with the housekeeper." Morrison shuffled some papers on his desk. "Uh…Dr. Drake Maverick. His number's here." He handed the paper to Cena.

"If he was working here last night, would he have opened the door to anyone?" Styles asked.

"Whenever Mike worked late, he would order dinner from Truthful Eats. A pickup/delivery place a few blocks away. I didn't look at what was in his office, but you'll probably find a delivery from them." Morrison chuckled. "If it was Monday, he would always order a chicken salad sandwich, side salad with Italian dressing, and a large lemonade."

Styles made a note to check with CSI about that. "So, he would've let them in?"

Morrison nodded. "Just into the front office to take the delivery. Then he would've locked the door and reset the alarm." He frowned. "That's what I don't understand. We both would set the alarm if we were working late. Mike would never have just walked back to his office without setting it."

Cena was running scenarios in his head as to how that could have happened. "Have you been able to determine if anything was taken?"

Morrison shook his head. "The officers who arrived first asked me that. The only thing of value, well besides office equipment, is about $200 in petty cash. Nothing was taken."

"What about other employees?" Styles asked.

"Mickie James, our receptionist. I called her and told her about Mike. Told her not to come in for a few days," Morrison answered. "Miz had two young men that he was mentoring. Teaching them the ins and outs of the business. Curtis Axel and Bo Dallas."

"We'll need their names and contact information. As well as a copy of the partner's insurance policy," Cena requested.

Morrison nodded. He stood and reached for the file folder. "I'll go copy that now and then get you their addresses." As he started to leave the office, one of the CSI agents looked into the office. "Detectives, there are two people here. Say they've got an appointment with the deceased."

Morrison looked startled. "I guess I'll explain." He followed the CSI agent towards the front office.

The two detectives stood to follow. "You'd think the yellow crime scene tape would've been a hint," Styles muttered.

"Good morning, I'm John Morrison. Mike's partner," Morrison introduced himself. "I'm afraid Mike…Mike was murdered last night."

"Jesus!" The tall man swore in a thick Texas accent. He looked around the front office with a mixture of revulsion and curiosity then back at Morrison. He slowly held out his hand. "I'm John Bradshaw Layfield." He indicated the tall muscular man next to him. "This is my associate, Ron Simmons."

Morrison shook hands with both men then turned to the detectives. "Detectives John Cena and A. J. Styles."

"Gentlemen," Layfield politely nodded. Simmons silently nodded as well.

"Mr. Layfield, you just opened the Davenport Star Hotel, correct?" Cena politely asked.

Layfield smiled. "Yes, we did. I was meeting with Mr. Mizanin to discuss some real estate ventures."

"I'm sorry," Morrison apologized. "I'm not familiar with Mike's clients. It'll take me a few days to get the office running again."

"Don't worry about that." Layfield gave Morrison a business card. "Just call me when you get things set to rights."

"How did you know Mr. Mizanin?" Styles asked.

"He was involved in the early purchase of properties where the Star is located," Layfield answered. "I was very pleased with his efforts and naturally thought of doing business with him again." When Styles silently nodded, he looked back at Morrison. "My condolences, Mr. Morrison. Please extend them to Mr. Mizanin's family."

"I will," Morrison nodded. He watched as the two men ducked under the yellow tape then turned to the detectives. "Let me make you a copy of this and get you those addresses."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Absolutely not. I will not have it." Dr. Drake Maverick's voice was more than firm. "Mrs. Mizanin is in absolutely no condition to be questioned. She'd worked herself into a fine state of nerves worrying about her husband and then with the terrible news of her husband's death…I couldn't sedate her because of the baby, but I did manage to calm her down a bit. I won't have you undoing all that."

The short doctor glared up at the two detectives. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have two women in labor. One with triplets!"

"When can we speak with Mrs. Mizanin?" Cena asked.

"Leave your card at the nurse's station," Drake snarked as he turned to walk down the hallway. "I'll call you after I've seen her tomorrow. Triplets, gentlemen! They wait for no one!"

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"I can't believe it," Mickie James dabbed her eyes with a tissue. "Mike was a good person. Oh, he could drive you to distraction some days, but all bosses do that."

"What about enemies?" Cena asked.

Mickie half-smiled. "Oh, I'm sure pretty much every realtor in Davenport hated his guts. But that's because Mike went out and looked for properties. He didn't wait for someone to waltz into the office and say they wanted to sell something or buy something. He'd look at what areas had a high turnover of property sales then figure out why. Or what new businesses were moving in. He worked hard at becoming successful."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Cena, Styles. You got a couple of guys waiting for you."

Styles looked across the room, then nudged Cena. "Look what the cat dragged in."

Cena's eyes narrowed, recognizing the men from the personnel files of M & M Realty. "Axel and Dallas."

The two detectives approached the two men who were sitting in chairs along one wall.

"Mr. Axel. Mr. Dallas. Thank you for coming in. We need to speak with both of you," Cena calmly spoke.

Axel stood and helped a sniffling Dallas also stand. "We heard about what happened. And I've got something you need to hear."

Cena nodded. "If you'll come with me. Mr. Dallas, please accompany Detective Styles."

Axel patted Bo on the shoulder. "It's okay."

Bo nodded and straightened his shoulders then followed Styles.

"He's really broken up about this," Axel quietly explained. "Especially after what we heard."

Cena led him to an interrogation room. "What did you hear?" he asked.

Axel pulled out his cell phone and accessed his voice mail.

"_Curtis! Wherever you and Dallas are, get to the office __**now**__!"_

"Mr. Mizanin?" Cena asked, reaching for the cell phone. He noted the time of the call as 10:20pm.

"Yeah," Axel nodded. "I didn't see it until this morning."

"Awfully late to be calling somebody to come to the office," Cena remarked. "And he sounds a little irritated."

"He sounds really mad," Axel corrected him. "I think…he may have found out that Bo and I were leaving."

"Leaving?"

Axel sighed. "Miz was supposed to be mentoring us about the real estate business. We were more…like his flunkies. But if we left Miz and stayed in Davenport, he would've blackballed us for sure. So, I…I snooped in his office when he was out and found contact names of other real estate firms in other cities." He looked down at the floor. "I know that's unethical, but I really didn't have any choice."

"So, you found other employment?" Cena asked. He privately wondered why Axel called the deceased 'Miz'.

Axel nodded. "I start next week in Connecticut. Bo's got a job in Tampa. We were going to tell Miz today. But, from how mad he sounded, I think maybe somebody either in Connecticut or Tampa jumped the gun to confirm our credentials."

"Wouldn't they have done that before you were hired?"

"We'd given them that information, but it always needs to be independently verified," Axel explained. "I guess they should've called the licensing board and maybe they did but wanted another source of confirmation."

"Where were you last night between 9pm and 3am?" Cena asked.

"Bo and I got invited to a party," Axel explained. "Some girls we've been seeing off and on invited us. At the home of their employer. Guy named Val Venus."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"It was so loud at the party! Axel couldn't hear his phone, and he didn't see the message until this morning!" Bo tearfully looked at Cena. "Maybe if we'd heard it, we could've been there…stopped it…"

"Or maybe gotten killed yourselves," Styles pointed out. "So, you were going to tell Mr. Mizanin today you're leaving his employ?"

"I knew Miz would be mad," Bo nodded.

"Miz?"

Bo smiled fondly in remembrance. "He said we could call him that."

"Where were you between 9pm last night and 3am this morning?"

"Oh, at a party! A big party! At this guy's house. Some girls we know invited us."

"And the guy's name?" Styles prodded.

"Val Venus."

'_Great. Just great'_, Styles silently groaned.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have a brief statement to make." Mayor Paul Heyman's expression was sorrowful yet determined. "Davenport has lost one of our most treasured and valued citizens. As you know and have reported, Michael Mizanin was brutally murdered last night in his office. A hard-working decent family man who was a true son of Davenport. Murdered while working to make a living for himself and his family."

Heyman took a deep breath. "We cannot and **will not** tolerate this within our fair Community! Our citizens **must** be safe to carry on their legitimate business without fear of violence! The Chief of Police and his men are at this moment diligently investigating this horrendous crime. I have every faith in them that they will bring the perpetrator to justice!"

He paused, allowing the media to snap pictures of his determined expression. _'Should be good for my re-election poster,'_ he inwardly chuckled.

"But our police force, in whom I have the utmost confidence, can't do this alone. I'm asking my fellow citizens to call the Crime Stoppers Hotline if they have any information or even think you **might** have some information to help solve this horrible murder. You can remain anonymous, of course. I'm asking the media to publicize the Crime Stoppers Hotline number as you report on this story."

Heyman allowed his face to show more sorrow. "And, please, do not forget the family of Mr. Mizanin. He leaves a grieving pregnant wife, a young daughter, and parents. Keep them in your thoughts and prayers, I beg you, for they have lost so much." He took a deep breath. "I have nothing more for you at this time. Thank you."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Stephanie Helmsley glanced at her husband, sitting on the sofa next to her. "All **that** to get one point across?" she humorously asked.

Hunter's lips twitched in a smile. "But he got it across." He put an arm around his wife and pulled her closer. "He got it across."


	11. Chapter 11

The sun was barely over the horizon when John Morrison stepped off the elevator in the Davenport Star Hotel. He absently straightened his tie as he walked down the hallway to the penthouse suite. He quietly knocked twice on the door of the suite and waited. The door opened within a few seconds, and he smiled. "Good morning, Mr. Layfield."

"Mr. Morrison. Thank you for coming so early in the morning." John Bradshaw Layfield broadly smiled and stepped back so Morrison could enter. "You remember my associate, Ron Simmons?"

"Of course. Mr. Simmons." Morrison nodded at the large man who stood by the windows and made no effort to join them. He was rewarded by a slight nod in return.

"May I present Mr. Hunter Helmsley." Layfield shut the door behind him and indicated the man sitting at a table laden with various breakfast foods.

"Mr. Morrison." Hunter stood and held out his hand. "My condolences on the death of your partner."

"Thank you," Morrison calmly replied.

"Please sit." Hunter waved a hand at the table next to him then glanced at Layfield and Simmons. "Everyone. We can eat while we discuss matters."

Layfield and Simmons immediately began filling their plates with eggs, sausage, bacon, and toast while Hunter poured coffee for everyone.

Morrison chose a variety of fruit, plain yogurt, and a slice of toast. He saw Hunter raise an eyebrow in his direction. "I never eat much this early in the morning," he explained.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," Simmons rumbled as he began to eat.

Morrison smiled as he mixed some blueberries into his yogurt. "I agree. But my breakfast is usually later in the morning."

"As you know, Mr. Mizanin was very instrumental in obtaining the properties for both the Star Hotel and Diamond Casino," Hunter began. "Our plans include building another hotel nearby for those who have a more modest budget. We planned for Mr. Mizanin to obtain those properties."

Morrison slowly nodded. "Mike and I made sure we didn't come into unexpected competition with one another. I concentrated mainly on residential accounts while he handed commercial accounts. But we kept each other informed about what we were working on."

"What's going to happen to the business?" Hunter asked. "Or rather, Mr. Mizanin's part of the business?"

"Mike's share will go to his wife…his widow," Morrison explained. "We had a partnership life insurance policy that would stabilize the business in case…in case of what did happen." He sipped his coffee then continued. "I plan on transferring that over to Mike's widow."

Hunter leaned back in his chair. "Won't that put a crimp in the business?"

Morrison shrugged. "Perhaps for a little while," he admitted. "But I have no problem putting in the long hours to keep the business a success. And it will give Mike's widow a comfortable cushion so she can concentrate on her children."

The two men exchanged a level look for several seconds, then Hunter slowly smiled. "I assume the police know about this policy."

Morrison nodded. "It would have been easy for them to find out about it so there was no reason to keep it from them."

"So, you don't think Mr. Mizanin's widow will want to be a part of the business?" Hunter asked.

"I believe she'll see the wisdom of not having that burden."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Moxley paused in working the punching bag when his cell phone rang. Swearing under his breath, he removed the gloves and stalked to where his phone rested on a bench next to the wall. "Moxley," he snapped.

"Good morning, Mr. Moxley. William Regal here."

"Oh, morning." Mox wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Is something wrong?"

"Not at all," Regal assured him. "I was just calling to inform you I've been notified the rest of your funds are available for transfer at your convenience."

Mox sat down on the bench. "That was kinda quick."

"Not at all," Regal assured him. "I wanted to make sure the city was prompt in living up to their end of this deal." He chuckled under his breath. "I'm still amazed what the word 'lawsuit' will do to motivate people to do their job correctly."

'_I bet._' Mox had to grin.

"Are you available to meet in my office tomorrow at say 10am?"

"Sure. Not a problem."

"Excellent! Be sure to bring your bank account number, and we'll complete the transaction while you're here," Regal assured him. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, 10am," Mox agreed.

The call completed, Mox leaned back against the wall. Roman had turned part of basement into a home gym available to whoever wanted to use it. This time of the day, however, Mox usually had the gym to himself.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The transfer of the rest of the money he was owed would be the end of that chapter of his life. But that meant he had to think about the next chapter in his life.

'_But you've got a ton of cash sitting in the bank. With more to come. You can do whatever you want.'_

Mox just wasn't sure what that was going to be.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Let's hope somebody remembers making a delivery to our victim," Styles sighed as Cena parked the car in in front of the business known as _Truthful Eats_. They'd found an empty bag with the deli's logo on it along with empty sandwich wrappers and salad container in the trash can in Miz' office. A half-full cup of lemonade had been sitting on his desk.

The two detectives got out of the car and walked to the front door. John Cena looked through the window and saw a young woman behind the counter. When his partner knocked on the door, she looked up and shook her head, obviously indicating they weren't open for business yet.

Styles showed his badge and the young woman's eyes widened momentarily. She turned her head and apparently called for someone to join her. Seconds later, a tall African-American man with dreadlocks and wide dark eyes joined her. She pointed to the door where Cena had joined Styles, both their badges visible.

The man quickly walked to the door and unlocked it. "Come on in," he cheerfully invited, holding the door open. "Welcome to _Truthful Eats_ where we tell the truth about our ingredients."

The two detectives exchanged a quick look then Cena spoke. "I'm Detective John Cena, and this is my partner Detective A. J. Styles."

"I'm R-Truth, co-owner of this place. Call me Truth." He closed and locked the door behind them. "This is my partner, Carmella."

"Hey." Carmella stared at them for a few moments then returned her attention to where she was sorting receipts on the counter.

"What can we do for you gentlemen? We're not open yet, but I could probably whip together a sandwich for you. Our special today is egg salad sandwich with potato chips and a pickle spear." Truth smiled engagingly.

"Uh, no thanks," Styles quickly answered. "We're investigating a murder that occurred yesterday. Our victim apparently ordered delivery from you a lot when he was working late."

"Well, that depends on what you mean by late." Truth scratched his chin. "We close at seven, but we'll make deliveries to businesses as we're leaving."

Cena put a picture of Miz on the counter so Truth and Carmella could look at it. "Is he familiar?"

Carmella snorted. "Oh, yeah. Mr. Dollar Tipper, the cheapskate."

"Hey, 'Mella! Don't talk bad about the dead." Truth reproachfully shook his head at her. His partner ignored him.

"He'd call in a delivery order just about the time we close. Always ordered the daily special with a large lemonade," she explained, returning her attention to sorting receipts. "We'd tell him it would be close to eight before we'd get it to him, and he'd complain." She looked up at the two detectives and snorted again. "Then tip a dollar for the delivery."

"Did you make a delivery to him yesterday?" Cena asked.

"Nah," Truth answered. "Last delivery to him was last Thursday. Roast beef day."

Styles frowned. "A take out bag with an empty salad container and some lemonade was found in his office."

Carmella shrugged. "No delivery to him yesterday. And I didn't see him in here either."

"Me neither," Truth added.

"Would one of your other employees have seen him?" Cena asked.

"Ain't nobody but me and 'Mella," Truth grinned. "Keeps the overhead down."

Styles frowned then slowly spoke. "Would it be possible to find out if someone else came in and ordered exactly what he would've ordered?"

Truth nodded so fast his dreadlocks bounced. "Sure. We'd have the receipts. 'Mella's sortin' them now."

"Wouldn't have to if someone didn't just throw them in a box," Carmella grumbled under her breath.

"Chicken salad sandwich, side salad with Italian dressing, and large lemonade," Styles rattled off.

"No problem." Truth reached across the counter to one of the stacks of receipts and promptly got his hand slapped. "Ow!" He quickly pulled his hand back.

"Don't mess these up," Carmella ordered. "I just got them sorted by the hour."

"Start late and work back," Styles urged, leaning on the counter.

Carmella glared at him then began sorting through the receipts while the others waited with various degrees of impatience.

"Here you go." Carmella slapped a receipt onto the counter. "That exact order at 5:27pm yesterday."

"Told you she could find it," Truth proudly grinned. He was rewarded when Carmella smiled at him.

"Don't suppose either of you remembered who ordered it?" Cena asked.

Carmella shook her head. "That's a busy time what with people stopping in after work."

Truth also shook his head. "Sorry, no idea."

"Paid in cash," Styles muttered as he grabbed the receipt.

"Any chance someone else could've ordered the same thing?" Cena asked.

Truth shrugged. "Sandwich and side salad, sure. Maybe even with Italian dressing. But we don't got too many people wanting lemonade."

Both detectives looked at Carmella who sighed. "Look, we gotta get ready to open in a few hours. I'm gonna scan these into our computer now. Leave your card, and if I find another one like that, I'll let you know."

"Fair enough," Cena promptly nodded as he handed her his card. "We appreciate your help."

Carmella waved a hand in his direction and carefully stacked the rest of the receipts. As she walked away towards a small office, Truth grinned. "She's the best!"

Styles absently nodded as he put the receipt into an evidence bag and sealed it.

"Thank you both again." Cena shook Truth's hand as they walked to the door.

Truth unlocked the door and waved as they left. "Come back again!"

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Please do not stay very long. My daughter needs her rest. Her doctor is coming by shortly."

The sentences were spoken in rapid-fire succession in a heavily accented French voice. Morrison knew that Maryse was originally from Montreal, but her time in the United States had eroded some of her natural accent. Her mother, however, had been born and still lived in Montreal. Miz had once laughed and said he was pretty sure she could speak English perfectly but preferred everyone to think she didn't just so she could eavesdrop on them.

"Yes, ma'am. I won't be long," Morrison promised.

Maryse's mother shot him a warning look then led him into the formal living room. "Maryse, Michael's partner is here."

"John." Maryse rose and reached out a hand to him.

Morrison took note of her reddened eyes and the fact that black really the best good color for her. He gently hugged her then helped her sit back onto the sofa. He then sat in a nearby chair.

"Mother, people will be coming soon. Could you check on the food? And Dr. Maverick lives on strong coffee." Maryse stared at her mother who was hesitating to leave.

"Of course, ma petite." Maryse's mother gave Morrison another glare then walked out of the room.

"Thank God," Maryse muttered. "I love her, and she and Papa dropped everything to come to us. But I just need her to leave me alone sometimes."

"She just wants to help and nobody really knows how," Morrison quietly stated. After a moment, he handed Maryse a file folder. "This is a copy of the partners insurance that Mike and I had on each other. I figured you hadn't had the time or inclination to look for anything like that."

"Mother started, but I stopped her," Maryse murmured.

"I contacted the insurance agent yesterday about it," Morrison began. He saw a flash of anger in Maryse's dark eyes. "He's waiting for your call. I've arranged for it to be transferred to you." He saw the anger in her eyes transform to wariness.

"Why?"

"Because Mike was a good friend to me when I needed it," Morrison softly answered. He knew Maryse hadn't been all that happy that her husband hadn't cut him loose when he'd hit rock bottom. "And this is an offer to buy Mike's half of the business." He held out a sealed envelope to her. "You'd also receive the commission on anything Mike had in the works."

"Why?"

Morrison leaned closer. "I'm sure that, in your state, you'd prefer to be somewhere else. Tranquil. Calm. Free from all the stress that an investigation into what happened is going to cause. Somewhere safe…from all that. Where you, your daughter and your new child are protected."

Maryse stared at him in silence for several moments. "How long would this take to be completed?" she finally asked.

Morrison noted how both the file folder and envelope were gripped tightly in her hands. "That would depend, I suppose, on how fast the insurance company pays out and if there are any impediments to the sale of Mike's share of the business." He shrugged. "Of course, I'll do all I can to expedite those matters. For tax purposes, the money from the partners insurance policy would be paid out in a yearly annuity."

Morrison knew that it wasn't that Maryse was smarter than her late husband. But she wasn't as arrogant and was a lot more suspicious of people than he'd been.

Plus, she was a mother with the instinct to protect her children, both born and unborn. She knew exactly what Morrison was saying and not saying.

It wasn't a hard choice to make.

"I'm taking my daughter and going back to Montreal after the funeral," Maryse finally spoke. "My child will be born there. We will live there." She glanced around the impeccably decorated room. "I haven't told Mike's parents about that. I would never prevent them from seeing their grandchildren, but I despise this town!"

Morrison didn't blink an eye. Mike had occasionally moaned about Maryse's homesickness. That had been a big reason for providing her with everything she asked for.

"Once we are gone and matters are settled, I want you to sell this house. Including the furnishings," Maryse continued. "I'm only taking our personal belongings."

"Of course," Morrison nodded. "When are you leaving?"

"The fune…funeral is Friday." Maryse took a deep breath. "I have an appointment with Dr. Maverick on Monday. I plan to leave on Tuesday."

"I'll do whatever you want me to do to help you," Morrison promised. "Mike was a good friend to me. He'd want me to help you and help to take care of his family." He saw anger once again flash in Maryse's eyes, but knew she'd take the deal and keep her mouth shut.


	12. Chapter 12

Styles was really wishing they'd accepted Truth's offer of the egg salad sandwich lunch special. The tacos he and Cena had gotten from a truck vendor weren't resting comfortably in his stomach. Especially when he thought about having to deal with the sleazebag named Val Venus.

He grunted as Cena parked the car in front of a building with a sign written in bright purple calligraphy "Venus Photography and Modeling". As he got out of the car, Styles grumbled, "I'm gonna need a shower after this."

Cena half-smiled but didn't disagree.

"Remind me to call my wife as soon as we leave," Styles said as he waited for Cena to join him on the sidewalk. "My mother-in-law is visiting, and I wouldn't put it past the old bat to have someone keeping an eye on me. She'd just love to tell my wife that I was in this place."

"Duly noted," Cena nodded.

Inside the building, the business manager narrowed her eyes as she watched the monitor showing the feed from the security camera in front of the building. She quickly walked to the adjoining office.

"Excuse me," Vickie Guerrero said. "Two men are coming to the door. Pretty sure they're cops."

Val Venus nodded and stood, cell phone to his ear. "Understood, sir. We've about to have those visitors now. I'll call you when they leave." Disconnecting the call, he walked out of the office through a second door. "Make an announcement that I want everyone, no exception, in the conference room **NOW**," he said over his shoulder. "Give me five minutes."

"You got it, boss." Vickie turned and activated the intercom. "**Everyone** to the conference room **NOW**." She hung up the phone just as the front door opened. She pasted a smile on her face and greeted the visitors. "Good afternoon, gentlemen. Welcome to Venus Photography and Modeling. I'm Vickie. How can I help you?"

"I'm Detective Cena, and this is Detective Styles. We'd like to see Mr. Venus. Is he available, Ms…." Cena spoke as both detectives produced their badges.

"Guerrero," Vickie softly replied, leaning against the counter to study their badges. "Mr. Venus is in a conference right now making final arrangements for a photo shoot." She glanced at the clock on the wall behind her. "But he should be wrapping it up about now. Let me call and find out."

Vickie picked up a phone receiver and punched a button. "Excuse me, Mr. Venus. But there are two police detectives here to see you. Yes, sir, I will." She hung up the phone and smiled at the detectives. "He'll be right here. Would either of you like some coffee or pastries?" She waved a hand towards a table sitting next to one wall. "Or I could get you some tea or water if you prefer."

"No, thank you," Cena politely replied.

Less than a minute later, Val entered the reception room and smiled. "Gentlemen, I'm Val Venus. What seems to be the problem?"

Cena and Styles again produced their badges and introduced themselves. "We're here to verify a couple of alibis in order to exclude two men from our investigation. They claim they were attending a party at your house last night."

Val nodded. "Yeah, I threw a party last night to celebrate landing a nice contract. I told my employees they could each invite some friends if they wanted."

Styles handed him pictures of Bo Dallas and Curtis Axel, and Val studied them. "There were a lot of people coming and going. I might have seen this one, but I can't say for sure." He tapped Dallas' picture then looked at Vickie. "You were there for a little while. Either of them look familiar?"

Vickie looked at the photos then shook her head. "Sorry, but like Mr. Venus said. I left early. My daughter's in town, and I wanted to spend time with her and my son-in-law."

"Could we speak with your employees who were at this party?" Cena asked.

Val shrugged. "Sure. Follow me." He led them down a hallway to a large room where a large blue screen was illuminated by several bright lights. A tall slender dark-skinned man was focused on setting up a camera on a tripod. "Dream, got a minute?"

The man turned around and stared at them over the top of his tinted glasses. "The Dream is busy."

Val repressed a smile. "Detectives, this is my photographer who goes by the name of Velveteen Dream. Dream, these are Detectives Styles and Cena. They need to ask you some questions."

"What's your real name?" Styles bluntly asked.

"The Dream has no knowledge of any previous existence," Dream denied.

Styles glared at Val who murmured, "Vickie will get it for you."

"We understand you were at a party at Mr. Venus' last night." Cena held out the pictures of Dallas and Axel.

"The Dream would be mortified to have taken such pictures," Dream arrogantly scoffed. He pointed one long finger at Dallas' photo. "He was following Summer around like a lost puppy. The Dream doesn't remember the other one."

"Do you remember what time you saw him?" Cena asked.

"Time has no meaning to the Dream."

"Thank you." Cena turned to Venus looked at Dream. "Do you know where the girls are?"

"The Dream saw them in the lounge, trying to make themselves presentable."

"Thanks, Dream." Val nodded to the left of the large room. As they walked away, Dream returned to setting up his cameras. "He's a genius with a camera but can be a genuine ass sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Styles sourly muttered.

Val chuckled as he led them down another hallway. "My models alternately love him and hate him. And on some days, they do both at the same time." He stopped in front of a closed door, then knocked. Opening it slightly, he called out, "Hello, ladies. Are you decent for visitors?"

A chorus of 'yes' and 'hi Val' drifted through the half-open doorway. Val then opened the door and motioned for the detectives to enter. "Ladies, this is Detective Cena and Detective Styles. They need to ask you some questions about the party last night. Gentlemen, this is Summer Rae."

Summer tossed her long blonde hair behind her and smiled flirtatiously at Cena.

"Paige."

The pale-skinned black-haired woman barely glanced up at them before returning her attention to filing her nails.

"Sasha Banks."

'_Who the hell has blue hair?'_ Styles thought as the woman glanced up at them with a half-smile then returned to watching Paige file her nails.

"Cameron."

Cameron managed to stare at them for a couple of seconds before nodding. She concentrated on painting her nails a gold color.

"Rosa Mendes."

Rosa paused in mid-stretch to smile at them, a pose that caused Styles to quickly remind himself he was a happily married man.

"And last, but certainly not least, Sable."

An older yet beautiful woman smiled at them from where she lounged by herself on a comfortable-looking sofa.

"Dream handles the photography, but Sable makes it possible," Val explained with a smile. "She handles the costuming, props, catering…all the background stuff that makes for a successful photo shoot. Just don't tell Dream that."

Sable's sultry smile widened.

Cena turned to Summer Rae. "Do you know this man?"

Summer looked at Dallas' picture. "Sure, that's Bo." She turned her eyes to Cena. "He's not in any trouble, is he? Bo's a good soul."

"He's an idiot," Paige said, eyes on her nail file.

"He is not!" Summer angrily glared at the other woman. "He may not be as smart as some people, but he's got a good heart."

"And a good soul," Paige mockingly replied.

"Ladies," Val warned.

"Were you with him last night?" Cena asked.

Paige snorted. "Yeah, we'd all like to know that."

"Gutter snipe," Summer angrily hissed.

"Bubble head," Paige calmly replied.

"**Girls!**" Sable snapped.

Summer flipped her long blonde hair in Paige's direction, then looked up at Cena. "He was at the party last night. At Val's house." She glared at Paige. "I invited him."

"How do you know him?" Styles asked.

"I met him at one of the clubs downtown. Called Nexus," Summer explained. "He was sitting there, just watching everybody. He looked like he wanted to be a part of the scene. You know, dancing and having fun. But I don't think he knew how or is just really shy."

Paige started to say something but stopped when Sable cleared her throat.

"Anyway, I encouraged him to get out on the dance floor; and we became friends," Summer continued. "When Val said we could invite friends to the party, I invited Bo. He asked if he could bring his friend. Curt somebody." She looked sad. "I think the two of us are his only friends."

"That would be this man?" Styles held out Axel's photo.

Summer nodded. "Yeah, that's him."

Styles showed the photo to the other women. "Any of you remember seeing him?"

Rosa stopped her stretching and stood upright. "I do. He was with a bunch of us who spent most of the party out back in the pool."

"Do you remember when they arrived? Or left?" Styles continued.

Summer laughed. "The party began at 8pm. They showed up about 8:30pm. Bo was **so** excited about being there. The last time I saw him was about 1:30 in the morning. Curt…whoever came and got him. Said they needed to go because they had some meeting early the next morning."

Rosa shrugged. "There isn't a clock by the pool. I can't say for certain when Curtis left, but I know a couple of people left around midnight and it was after that."

Cena exchanged a quick look with Styles who nodded. "Thank you, ladies. Could you possibly come to the station later today or tomorrow and formally make a statement as to what you've told us?"

Both Summer and Rosa nodded.

"Always glad to help law enforcement," Val smiled. As they followed him out, he said over his shoulder, "Vickie will give you Dream's legal name. To be honest, I've forgotten it."

Styles rolled his eyes.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

The first thing Styles did when he got into the car was search in the glove compartment for the small bottle of hand sanitizer that he knew Cena kept in there.

Cena smiled but said nothing as he felt his phone vibrate. Taking it out, he quickly read the message then returned the phone to his pocket. "Call you wife," he reminded Styles as he put the key into the ignition. "And your shower will have to wait. Dr. Maverick messaged me. Mizanin's widow can speak with us now."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Once the detectives had driven off, Val walked back into his office and sat behind his desk. He pulled out the cell phone he used when he did his most discrete business and dialed a number. When the call was answered, he quietly spoke. "The cops just left. Everything went perfectly. Just as you ordered." He listened to the response, absently nodding his head. "I'll see to it immediately." As the call was disconnected, he placed the cell phone in a small hidden safe then returned to his desk.

He then picked up his desk phone and activated the intercom. "Everyone, thank you for your cooperation. There will be a bonus in this week's pay for your efforts. Sasha, please see me in my office." He replaced the phone and leaned back in his chair with a smile. Apparently, he was going to get a bonus as well.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Don't drag this out, gentlemen, and have the courtesy of remembering you're dealing with a pregnant woman," Dr. Drake Maverick snapped over his shoulder as he led them to the lounge area where Maryse was waiting.

"We'll do our best," Styles drawled.

"See that you do!" Maverick hissed. Then he smiled as they entered the room. "Maryse, these are Detectives Cena and Styles. Gentlemen, Maryse Mizanin."

Maryse held out her hand although she remained seated in an overstuffed chair.

"Our sincere condolences, Mrs. Mizanin," Styles gently spoke as he shook her hand.

"Thank you," Maryse softly replied. "Please have a seat."

The two detectives sat on the sofa while Maverick stood close to Maryse's chair. "We hate to intrude on your grief, ma'am, but we do have some questions to ask," Styles apologized.

"I understand," Maryse nodded. "But I don't know anything about Mike's business. He never brought business home. In fact, we never even entertained any of his clients here. He said he wanted our home to be ours and not an extension of his business." She looked down at her hands which were clasped in her lap. "We would rent out a room at a restaurant for any of that entertaining."

"He never spoke about any problems at work?" Styles gently probed.

Maryse shook her head. "I only remember two times that he talked about work. One was when he was successful in getting the properties where the new hotel and casino are. He worked so hard on that project and was so proud he'd succeeded." She raised her head. "My husband was a good man and a good provider."

"I understand," Styles nodded. "And you're right to be proud of him." He hesitated then continued, "And the other time?"

Maryse hesitated. "It was a personal matter…with his partner. John had been seeing this woman for a while…years, I think. She wanted marriage and a family, but John wasn't ready to settle down. So, she left him. He began drinking. I guess pretty heavily although Mike never said anything that specific. He told me that John was going to get better, but that he would be working both his clients and John's for a while." She straightened her shoulders. "Mike didn't lose one single client during that time."

"We're truly sorry for your loss, Mrs. Mizanin." Styles glanced at Cena who shook his head. "And we apologize again for the intrusion." As he stood, Maryse held out her hand to him again. "Is there anything we can do for you?"

Maryse shook her head. "I'm taking things one small step at a time." She fondly glanced at Maverick. "And Dr. Maverick is taking good care of me and the baby."

Styles managed not to grunt when Maverick preened at her praise.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Seth Rollins entered the bookstore with a relieved sigh. Behind the counter, Bayley impishly grinned. "Rough day?"

"Lawyers and contractors," Seth muttered. "The good news is everything is on schedule for the deli and the study hall. The bad news is I've got the headache from hell."

"Go upstairs and take something for it. Eat something light and get some fluids in you. Things are fine here. Finn's inventorying the shipment we got today. If we need you, we'll call you on your cell." As Bayley was talking, she was herding him towards a door in the hallway. She opened it to reveal steps leading to the apartments above the bookstore. "Go. Shoo!"

Seth wearily smiled and started climbing the steps. "Thanks, Bayley."

Upstairs, he tossed the files onto the kitchen table then opened the refrigerator. He found some fruit salad in the refrigerator as well as a bottle of water and brought them to the table. Sitting down he began to eat.

The deli would open in two weeks. The study hall in three. The furniture in the study hall was exactly what he'd suspected it would be. Utilitarian and functional. But it would serve for the time being. Making a decision, he opened one of the files and found a business card. Before he could second guess himself, he dialed the number and waited.

"Leave a message at the tone."

The voice was one Seth remembered. He took a deep breath. "Roman, this is Seth Rollins. From Rollins Bookstore. I hope you remember me. I'd like to find out if the man you said could make the furniture we spoke of would be interested in doing a project for the study hall. Please give me a call at 312-875-4491. Thank you."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chief of Police Dean Malenko found Cena and Styles at their desks writing up their reports for the day. He put a file down on Cena's desk. "Autopsy report on Mizanin."

Cena opened it and read. Then he glanced at Styles. "Contents in his stomach were a chili dog and fries. Estimated he ate his last meal around 2pm."

"The killer brought the food from _Truthful Eats_." Styles' eyes narrowed. "Red herring."

"You want to fill me in?" Malenko dryly asked.

"We interviewed the owners of _Truthful Eats_," Styles explained. "They remembered Mizanin. Always ordered whatever the special of the day was. The leftover food in Mizanin's office was the special of the day on the day he was killed. We got the receipt where someone ordered it at _Truthful Eats_ and paid for it in cash."

"Unfortunately, that was during the evening rush hour; and nobody remembers who ordered and paid for it," Cena added.

"You believe them?" Malenko asked.

Cena slowly nodded. "Yeah, I do. We'll check their backgrounds, but I think they're clean. No reason to kill Mizanin."

Styles snorted. "Worse thing they could say was that he was a cheap tipper."

Malenko nodded. "Get your reports done and call it a day."

Cena watched as Malenko walked away. "The killer picked up that meal at 5:27pm. But the earliest Mizanin was killed was after he placed that call to Axel at 10:20pm. He couldn't have used it as an excuse to get in."

"Red herring," Styles repeated. "Just enough to throw some suspicion on _Truthful Eats_ until the autopsy report proved otherwise." He rubbed his forehead. "I don't think Mizanin let anyone in. I think the killer had a way in. Someone who knew the code to the security alarm or had access to the security company to get it."

"Or someone who'd been there and saw Mizanin or someone else use it," Cena theorized. "That means Mizanin knew his killer and could've let the killer in."

"This just keeps getting better and better," Styles grumbled.

"We do know one thing for sure," Cena said. When Styles looked at him, he continued, "Mizanin stepped on somebody's toes. And that somebody stepped back."


	13. Chapter 13

"Ese hombre que fue asesinado. El que compró y vendió propiedades. Dos hombres tenían palabras de ira con él antes de que fuera asesinado. En la librería Rollins. La noche que el casino abrió. Habla con el que se llama Samoa Joe. Hable con el que se llama a sí mismo Moxley. Tenían razones para querer a ese hombre muerto. "

Sasha Banks spoke softly but clearly in her mother's native tongue. Then disconnected the call. She handed the burner cell phone to the man sitting next to her on the couch and smiled.

"Perfect." Hunter Helmsley proudly smiled. He took the burner phone and placed it on an end table. It would be dismantled, and its parts deposited in various public trash cans across the city. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope. "This should adequately reimburse you for your time away from the studio." Val Venus had chosen Sasha over Rosa Mendes because Sasha had a well-deserved reputation of keeping her mouth shut.

Sasha didn't insult Hunter by opening the envelope. She merely slid it into the small purse at her side and continued to smile.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Mr. Moxley! Thanks for coming in!" Alexa Bliss beamed happily at him.

"Someone's going to hand me a bunch of money, I'll show up," Mox teased.

Alexa's head bobbed up and down in agreement then led him down the hallway towards Regal's office.

Mox frowned, noticing how the smaller woman limped. "Pastries already gone?"

Alexa frowned over her shoulder. "No more pastries," she mournfully answered. "But we have some nice healthy bagels."

Mox chuckled under his breath. Alexa made the words 'nice healthy bagels' sound like punishment. "Uh…no thanks."

Alexa nodded in complete agreement. "Yeah, me either," she muttered. She knocked on Regal's door then opened it. "Mr. Moxley is here."

"Come in, come in." Regal stood and shook Mox's hand. "Good of you to come in. We'll get this business settled promptly." He waved a hand towards a chair.

Mox sat in one chair, and Alexa sat in the one next to him.

"The city has transferred the balance of the eight million dollars into the firm's holding account." Regal's fingers moved swiftly across his computer's keyboard. That's $7,920,000."

Mox's head swam at hearing the amount. He suddenly remembered the small boy who'd resorted to stealing food from a convenience store to keep from starving. Now he had more money than he'd ever thought about having. Then he blinked when Regal spoke to him.

"I'll need your banking account number for the transaction."

Mox reached into his jacket pocket and handed Regal a piece of paper. When he'd deposited the original check in the bank, he'd put half of it into a savings account. That was where the rest of the money would go.

"I've set up accounts in all the local banks to facilitate these types of transfers," Regal explained. "Since I had your funds transferred to our account at your bank, the transfer should be nearly instantaneous."

They waited quietly for a few seconds, then Regal beamed. "Done and done." He then glanced over his shoulder in exasperation. "My printer died earlier this morning so I've printed out a copy of the transaction to our main printer. I'll go get it and make a copy of these papers for you to sign." He started to rise but Alexa slowly got to her feet.

"I'll get them," she offered.

Both men watched her limp out of the office.

"That woman can be a little too independent, if you get my meaning," Regal muttered.

"What happened?" Mox asked.

Regal sighed. "Miss Bliss is bound and determined to pay off all her school loans as quickly as possible. I can't fault her for that. However, although she lives in a respectable part of the city in a secured building, every piece of furniture she has is something she cheaply bought at a second-hand store. Which, of course, means the furniture is probably a third or fourth-hand piece of junk. Last night, the chair she was sitting in while eating dinner totally collapsed." Regal shook his head. "She's been flitting around the office all morning because she says it keeps the bruising from hurting as much." He glanced at the closed office door. "As soon as we're done here, I'm sending her home no matter what she says."

"Tell her to stop at the pharmacy and get some bruise cream," Mox suggested.

"Bruise cream? Never heard of that."

Mox shrugged. "Roman's mother probably bought it by the gross when we were kids. Helps a lot."

"I'll tell her to do that," Regal nodded. "Thank you for the suggestion."

Mox shrugged then he also glanced at the closed office door and made a decision. "There's something else I need your help with."

"Of course," Regal smiled. "How can I help you?"

"I want to buy a building," Mox explained. "It's empty and for sale." He met Regal's eyes. "I want to open a business there."

Regal nodded and turned to his computer. After a moment, he asked, "Can you return here at 2pm?" When Mox silently nodded, Regal entered the appointment on his calendar then phoned the receptionist to alert her that his appointment calendar had been updated.

Moxley glanced at the window as he waited. _'But you've got a ton of cash sitting in the bank. With more to come. You can do whatever you want.'_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Helmsley."

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Helmsley, but I just had a visit from Mr. Morrison." John Bradshaw Layfield leaned back in his chair. "Mr. Morrison came to discuss matters about buying more property for the new hotel but also asked that I pass along some information to you."

"Which is?" Hunter held up one finger to his wife who ruefully shook her head.

"Mr. Morrison did some checking," Layfield reported. "Apparently all the proper permits for the Rollins' businesses were approved, and they violate no zoning ordinances. He also said that Mrs. Mizanin is agreeable to his purchase of her late husband's share of the business. She intends to return to Montreal after the funeral."

"Thank you, Mr. Layfield. Please convey my appreciation to Mr. Morrison." Hunter hung up the suite's phone with a sigh. "Well, good news and bad news. The good news is Miz' wife is going along with everything."

Stephanie shrugged. "She's a pregnant widow with a small child. Of course, she is."

"And she plans on returning to Montreal after the funeral on Friday."

"We have people in Montreal, don't we?" Stephanie asked.

"Of course," Hunter grinned. "I'm sure Trish Stratus would be more than happy to keep a discrete eye on the widow."

Stephanie grimaced at hearing Trish's name but said nothing.

"The bad news is that all the permits are appropriately approved for Rollins' new businesses, and there are no zoning infractions." Hunter shrugged on his suit jacket. "But then, John Rollins was no fool. I didn't expect to find anything there."

Stephanie studied her husband for a moment, then slowly smiled. "It would be a shame if those businesses didn't work out, wouldn't it? After all, so many small businesses just…fail."

Hunter grinned in return. "There's always a Plan B," he admitted.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chief of Police Dean Malenko put a paper onto John Cena's desk. "Got a tip on the hotline about the Mizanin murder. Caller spoke in Spanish."

"The man who was killed. The one who bought and sold property. Two men had words of anger with him before he was killed. In the Rollins bookstore. The night the casino opened. Talk to the one named Samoa Joe. Talk with who calls himself Moxley. They had reason to want that man dead." Cena looked at his partner who frowned.

"You got it on tape?" A. J. Styles looked at his boss who nodded. "What did the translator think?"

Malenko smiled. Styles had a knack for asking questions out of the box. "According to the translator, the phrasing is that of someone with Spanish as a first language. However, the translator says the accent is that of someone who was perhaps raised where Spanish was spoken but with English spoken as the first language."

"Anonymous caller?" Cena guessed. "Guess he was really trying to hide his identity."

"She," Malenko corrected. "The caller was a woman."

"How would she know about this?" Cena wondered.

"Maybe she was with Mizanin before he died," Styles suggested.

"The killer was a woman?" Malenko probed.

Styles shrugged. "Mizanin's partner said our victim was devoted to his wife and daughter. Maybe he didn't know as much as he thought he did about our victim." He reached for the paper in Cena's hand and studied it. "Guess we'll be talking with these two guys."

"Let's talk with Rollins first," Cena decided.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Zelina Vega nudged Naomi Uso. When her friend glanced across the table at her, she nodded out the front window of the coffee shop.

Naomi glanced through the window and saw two cops she recognized as Cena and Styles. The ones investigating the murders of Renee Young and Mike Mizanin.

"Why are they going in there?" Zelina quietly asked as they stood.

"Let's find out." Naomi led the way out of the coffee shop.

"Thank God," Zelina muttered. "If I had to drink one more cup of coffee…"

Naomi grinned. "At least we've done some shopping in the process," she pointed out. Roman had ordered them to keep an eye on Rollins' bookstore just in case the cops got a tip about Samoa Joe and Moxley confronting Miz at the bookstore. They'd browsed and shopped at the boutique stores across the street from the bookstore and spent a lot of time in the coffee shop.

As the two cops entered the bookstore, they saw two men standing at the magazine stall. One held a clipboard and looked over his shoulder when the door closed behind them. "Good morning," he called out. "Can I help you gentlemen?"

Cena's eyebrow raised at the Irish lilt in the man's voice. "I'm Detective John Cena, and this is my partner, A. J. Styles. We'd like to speak with Seth Rollins."

"I'm Seth Rollins. This is Finn Balor." Seth stepped forward and examined the badges the two detectives held out for him to view. "What can I do for you?"

"Is there somewhere we could talk in private?" Cena asked.

"Sure." Seth turned to Finn. "Can you get a start on that inventory? I'll help as soon as I can."

"No problem," Finn nodded with a smile.

"My office is back here." Seth led the two detectives down the hall to a room on the right. "Please sit down."

"Do you want the door closed?" Styles asked when Seth sat behind the desk.

"No, it's just Finn and myself here this morning," Seth explained. "I need to hear him in case he needs help with customers. We tend to get a rush around this time of day." All three men could hear Finn greeting someone else in the front of the bookstore.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Ladies, how can I help you?" Finn smiled at the two beautiful women who'd just walked into the bookstore.

"I'm looking for something about the Spanish Conquistadors," Zelina smiled. "And about the Dutch East Indies Trading company. Both non-fiction if possible."

"We have a very good selection of books in our historical section," Finn proudly bragged. "I can help you with both."

"Um…do you have a restroom I can use?" Naomi quickly asked.

"Of course," Finn nodded. "Down the hall on the left."

Naomi shoved her shopping bags at Zelina and quickly walked towards the back of the bookstore.

"Is she okay?" Finn asked with concern.

Zelina shrugged. "She said breakfast wasn't sitting well." She impishly grinned and lowered her voice. "She says she's not, but I wonder if it's not morning sickness."

"Oh." Finn blinked twice.

"She has her cell phone and will call me if she needs help," Zelina assured him.

"Of course," Finn nodded. "Now about your books…"

Naomi heard voices coming from the office and leaned against the wall next to the women's restroom. None of the people in the office would be able to see her.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Mr. Rollins, we received some information regarding the murder of Michael Mizanin that claims he had a confrontation with two men here in your bookstore on Saturday night. Could you tell us anything about that?" Cena watched Seth closely.

"Confrontation? Here?" Seth's dark eyes widened. "Not that I know of. And not that any of my employees mentioned. What kind of a confrontation?"

"That's one thing we're trying to find out," Styles answered. "Did you know Mr. Mizanin?"

"Not really," Seth admitted. "He approached me at my Uncle John's funeral and gave me his business card. I still have it somewhere. He reminded me that we'd gone to school together, but I wouldn't have remembered it if he hadn't brought it up. Anyway, he said that he and my uncle had reached an agreement about selling the bookstore. I told him everything was in probate. He said he understood and asked that I get in touch with him when everything was probated."

"Do you know either Joan Seanoa or Jon Moxley?" Cena asked.

Seth looked thoughtful but slowly shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. I don't."

Cena reached into his pocket and pulled out two photos. Laying them on the desk, he asked, "Do you recognize either of these men?"

Seth leaned forward and stared at the photos. Both photos looked like ones taken for a driver's license. He shook his head. "No. Neither of them."

Cena retrieved the photos as Styles leaned back in his chair. "We did some checking. You and Moxley went to high school as well."

Seth chuckled and leaned back. "That's entirely possible. But it was a large high school, Detective. My graduating class had over 300 students." He nodded towards the open door. "My great uncle allowed students to come and study here. Use the books in the reference section. He valued education very highly and saw it as a way to provide a way out of poverty and give kids an opportunity other than crime. I worked in the bookstore from the time I was in middle school and did some tutoring as well when I got into high school. It's possible I met this Moxley guy then. There were a lot of kids in here."

"Where were you Saturday night?" Cena calmly asked.

"Here," Seth answered. "I moved back to the apartment upstairs. No sense in staying in a hotel while everything moved through probate. Saturday night I was here in the office. I had a meeting in a few days with the contractors about the deli and study hall on either side of the bookstore. I needed to familiarize myself with the status of those projects. I was here until about…maybe eleven? I wasn't really paying attention to the time. Then I went upstairs to bed."

"Do you have any idea why someone would phone in a tip like this? Bring you into this investigation?" Styles asked.

"None," Seth firmly answered. "I left Davenport after graduating high school. I'd gotten a scholarship to a college in Missouri. To be honest, I didn't return to Davenport until my Uncle John died."

Styles subtly nodded at Cena who got to his feet.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Rollins." Cena handed him his card. "If you think of anything that could explain this tip, please give us a call."

"Of course." Seth took the card as he also stood.

None of the three men heard the door to the women's restroom gently close.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Naomi slowly counted to thirty before opening the restroom door and walking back down the hallway. She saw Zelina at the counter paying for three books that the young Irishman was putting into a bag.

"Do you mind if we call it a day?" she asked her friend. "I think I need to go home." 

"Sure." Zelina smiled at Finn. "Thank you for your help."

"My pleasure," Finn answered. He looked at Naomi. "I hope you feel better."

"Thank you."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Seth sat behind the desk and took several deep breaths. He wondered if his story had been believable. So many times, scenes for his book were written with ease because his subconscious had been working on them without his knowledge. He guessed his subconscious had been working on this as well.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"You believe Rollins?" Cena asked as they got into the car.

Styles settled into the passenger seat and scratched his jaw. "Yes and no." When Cena stared at him, he continued, "I believe him about Mizanin. I don't know I believe him about Moxley and Samoa Joe."

Cena slowly nodded in agreement.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

As Zelina and Naomi quickly walked back to the parking garage, Naomi pulled out her cell phone and made a call.

"Roman? You called it. The cops showed up at the bookstore. I overheard the conversation, and Rollins covered for Samoa Joe & Moxley. Denied knowing them. Denied anything happened with Miz on Saturday night. The cops said someone had phoned in a tip about a confrontation between them and Miz on Saturday night at the bookstore." She paused, listening closely. "Okay. We're headed home."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Roman stood up from his desk and went to find both Joe and Mox. They needed to know the cops would looking for them and needed to know why and that Seth Rollins had covered for them. Roman made a mental note to find out why Seth had done that.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

A half-hour later, Jericho stuck his head into Roman's office. "Two detectives are here. Wanting to talk with Joe and Mox."

Roman nodded and closed a file folder before standing.

"Detectives Cena and Styles." Jericho's voice was neutral in the introduction.

"Gentlemen, I'm Roman Reigns." The three men shook hands carefully sizing each other up.

"We need to speak with Joe Seanoa and Jon Moxley." Styles' voice was a little aggressive, put out that they'd been brought to Reigns rather than to the two men they were looking for.

Roman ignored Styles' tone of voice and glanced at Jericho who shrugged. "Last I saw Joe, he was in the gym. Mox is probably tinkering with his cycle."

Roman nodded. "Please find them and tell them two detectives want to speak with them."

"We'd rather go to them ourselves," Styles interrupted.

"Do you have a warrant?" Roman asked.

"No, we don't," Cena admitted.

"Then you go no further in my home than here," Roman firmly answered. He nodded to Jericho who quietly left the office. "Please sit down and make yourselves comfortable. Would you like anything to eat or drink?"

"Nothing, thank you," Cena calmly answered as he sat down. After a second's hesitation, Styles also sat.

They remained sitting in silence until both Samoa Joe and Mox entered the office.

"This is Detective Cena and Detective Styles," Roman quietly spoke. "They have no warrant but would like to speak with you about something."

Styles had the uncomfortable suspicion that Reigns was amused by them.

"About what?" Joe calmly asked.

"We can discuss that at the precinct." Cena stood. "If you'd join us."

"Chris!" Roman raised his voice.

Jericho appeared in the doorway.

"Have the Explorer brought around," Roman requested. He then looked at the detectives. "I'll drive them. They can contact their attorneys on the way."

Styles exchanged a look with Cena who could see his partner wasn't happy. He turned to Roman. "We'd be happy to see they're returned when we're done."

"**We** will be happy to do it this way," Roman countered. "Since you don't have a warrant."

Cena nodded. "As you wish. Second Precinct, Mr. Reigns." He paused, then continued. "We may have some questions for you as well."

Roman silently nodded. When Jericho escorted the detectives out, he looked at Joe and Mox. "Five minutes to change. I'll call Regal."

Both men silently nodded and left.

Roman picked up the phone and dialed a number. "William, sorry to bother you; but I need you to get to the Second Precinct as soon as possible. The cops want to talk with Joe and Mox." He suddenly grinned. "And maybe with me as well."


	14. Chapter 14

William Regal and Alexa Bliss were waiting at the Second Precinct when Roman entered with Samoa Joe and Moxley. He shook hands with everyone and coldly smiled. "Remember, no one answers questions without either myself or Ms. Bliss' approval. Answer no questions without either of us present. Oh, I also saw Special District Attorney Adam Cole arriving. If he's not present during questioning, I'm sure he will be observing."

"Then they're going to be asking questions about the Young murder," Mox mused.

"The same detectives, Cena and Styles, are also investigating the Mizanin murder," Regal pointed out.

"Why would they want to ask us questions about that?" Samoa Joe innocently asked.

Regal saw the two detectives approaching. "We're about to find out," he quietly spoke. "On your toes, gentlemen." He turned to face Detectives Cena and Styles. "My clients will be represented by either myself or Ms. Bliss during questioning."

"Of course," John Cena politely answered. "We've set aside three rooms for our needs. If you'll follow us." He allowed Styles to lead the way and carefully watched the reactions from each of those present.

The attorneys looked indignant on their clients' behalf. Reigns, Seanoa, and Moxley looked calm and at ease although Moxley's body language was a little more tense. _'But then he was falsely accused and convicted,'_ Cena told himself. _'He __**would**__ be more tense than the others.'_

As Styles put each of the three in individual rooms, Cena looked at Regal and Bliss. "We'll be interviewing Mr. Reigns first."

Regal nodded. "I'll be present during his questioning and that of Mr. Seanoa. Ms. Bliss will be present for Mr. Moxley's questioning."

"I'll be with my client," Alexa calmly walked into the interrogation room where Moxley sat and closed the door behind her.

Regal's blue eyes twinkled at the expression on the detectives' faces. "Gentlemen? Shall we proceed?"

Cena waved a hand towards the open door while Styles shut the door to Samoa Joe's room. He missed the quick smirk on the man's face.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Mr. Moxley, we'll get you out of here as soon as possible," Alexa smiled as she sat in a chair next to her client. She leaned her briefcase against her chair and winced as she sat back up.

"Bruise still bothering you?" Mox asked.

Alexa shrugged. "Not as much as before." She impishly grinned. "Thank you for the suggestion, though. It's been a big help."

Mox waved his hand. "No problem. You get a new chair?"

Alexa shook her head. "I'll look for one. Right now, I'm sitting on the couch and eating off the coffee table. And hoping neither of those fall apart."

"Maybe you'll find something soon," Mox smiled.

"I'll work it into the budget," Alexa promised with another grin.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Cena sat down on the opposite side of the table from Roman and Regal. Styles took a seat next to Cena.

"For the record, you are Mr. Roman Reigns?" Cena began.

"I am," Roman nodded.

"You are the employer of one Joe Seanoa and Jon Moxley. Correct?"

"Incorrect."

Cena and Roman stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. Then Cena half-smiled. "My apologies, sir. What is incorrect about that statement?"

"Mr. Seanoa is in my employ. Mr. Moxley is not."

"What exactly does Mr. Seanoa do while in your employ?" Styles asked.

"He assists me in keeping a close eye on my business affairs," Roman calmly answered. His expression didn't change when Styles grunted.

"Gentlemen, my clients are here of their own volition and are free to leave at any time," Regal coldly pointed out. "However, our time here is not open-ended. Please get to the point."

"Since Mr. Moxley isn't in your employ but living in your home, what's your connection with him?" Cena asked.

"We've known each other since middle school." Roman's grey eyes grew cold. "His mother abandoned him when he was a child, and his father was an abusive drunk. Mox was often on the edge of starvation, and no one in authority seemed to give a damn about the bruises he usually wore on his face and body. I began bringing him home with me after school. My mother almost immediately adopted him so he began spending more and more time in our house. One day my father said he'd be living with us permanently. We are brothers, detectives. Born to different parents, but brothers nonetheless." He leaned back in his chair. "I hope that answers your question."

"Which shouldn't have been asked since you asked that very question of Mr. Moxley in my presence," Regal pointed out.

"There's no record of Social Services being involved in Mr. Moxley being placed in your home," Styles pointed out. "Do you have an answer for that?"

Roman shrugged, although anger tinged his voice. "My father had a lot of firm rules. One was that children were not present nor involved in adult conversations. Perhaps you should find out why there was no record of the abuse being reported by school authorities. You might be able to help other abused children by doing so."

Regal put a hand on Roman's arm. "I believe we're done here, gentlemen."

"Just one more question," Cena intervened. "We received a tip on the Crimestoppers' Hotline that Mr. Seanoa and Mr. Moxley had a confrontation with one of our murder victims, Michael Mizanin, last Saturday. Do you know anything about that?"

"No."

"Where were you Saturday night?" Styles asked. "For the record."

Roman slowly smiled. "At the grand opening of the new casino. Quite a few people saw me there. I even spoke with the Mayor."

"And that's it, gentlemen." Regal stood motioning for Roman to follow him. "These questions have been a waste of my client's time. Don't presume to do this again, or I will have to file a complaint." He led Roman to the hallway and spoke quietly. "Go wait in the lobby."

Roman silently nodded and walked out.

Regal then walked to the room where Samoa Joe waited and opened the door. He looked over his shoulder. "Gentlemen? Are you questioning Mr. Seanoa now?"

"We are," Styles grimly spoke.

The detectives followed Regal into the interrogation room, and Styles closed the door behind him.

"For the record, you are Joe Seanoa; and you are employed by Mr. Roman Reigns. Is that correct?" Cena began.

"Yes," Joe answered.

"You're also known as Samoa Joe?"

"My friends call me that," Joe pleasantly nodded.

"What about people who aren't your friends?" Styles asked.

Joe chuckled. "I'm sure anyone who isn't my friend has a more derogatory name for me than Samoa Joe. You'd have to ask those who aren't my friends."

"And what are your job duties for Mr. Reigns?" Cena asked.

"I help keep an eye on his business interests," Joe answered.

Styles snorted.

"Was that a question, detective?" Regal demanded.

"Just clearing my throat," Styles smiled.

"In keeping an eye on those business interests, or in any other way, did you know Michael Mizanin?" Cena asked.

"The guy who was murdered?" Joe shook his head. "It's possible I met him at some point in passing. I meet a lot of people."

"Where were you last Saturday night?" Styles asked.

Joe pursed his lips in thought. "Moxley and I spent some time at Lin Sane's Sports Center. Ms. Sane is a good friend of mine, and she had the absolute best hot dogs. I highly recommend them even if she doesn't have a good opinion of cole slaw." He smiled at the detectives' expressions. "Moxley wanted to know where he could get a good hot dog. So, I took him there. After eating and chatting with Ms. Sane, we spent some time in the batting cages and played some games. Then we drove around for a while. I think we probably went through Moxley's old neighborhood, in the east side. Then we returned home."

"We received a tip on the Crimestoppers' Hotline that you and Mr. Moxley had a confrontation with Mr. Mizanin at Rollins' Bookstore on Saturday night. You're saying that didn't happen?" Cena asked.

"Didn't happen," Joe confirmed. "I don't even know where this bookstore is. And Moxley and I were together Saturday night from the time we left to go to Sane's Sports Center until we returned home."

"And you've never met Seth Rollins?"

Joe shook his head. "As I said, I meet a lot of people. But as far as I know, I've never met him."

"Ever go to a place called _Truthful Eats_?"

"Never heard of the place."

"Where were you between the hours of 9pm Monday night and 3am Tuesday morning?"

"After dinner, I went to the gym in Mr. Reigns' basement. I spent several hours working out, mostly on the heavy bag and with some weights," Joe recalled. "Some of the other employees were in and out although I can't tell you who they were. I was concentrating on my own workout. Then I showered and went to bed."

"Alone?" Styles snarked.

"Detective!" Regal protested.

Joe comfortably smiled. "Regretfully, yes. But I had a very pleasant dream."

"And now we're done," Regal firmly spoke, getting to his feet. "If you have any further questions, detectives, call my office."

Joe pleasantly nodded to the detectives and followed Regal out of the room.

The two detectives stared at each other for a moment, then stood as well. As they walked into the hallway, they saw Joe and Regal leaving. Then they opened the door to where Mox and Alexa were waiting.

"My apologies for the wait," Cena said as he entered. "We were questioning Mr. Reigns and Mr. Seanoa."

'_And neither of you look like you enjoyed that,'_ Mox thought.

"Why is my client here?" Alexa demanded.

The two detectives exchanged a quick look, then Styles answered, "We received a tip on the Crimestoppers' Hotline that places you in Rollins' Bookstore on Saturday night in a confrontation with our murder victim, Michael Mizanin."

"I wasn't there," Mox answered.

"You weren't?" Styles pushed.

"Nope." Mox popped the 'p'. "At least not on Saturday night. Last time I was in that bookstore was my senior year of high school when I was working my ass off to pass World History so I could graduate."

"Do you know Seth Rollins?" Cena asked.

Mox scratched his chin. "I think that was the name of old man Rollins' nephew. Might have sorta known him in high school."

"What about Mizanin?" Styles asked.

"Oh, yeah, I remember Mizanin from high school," Mox snorted. "Called himself 'The Miz' for some stupid reason. Walked around like he owned the school and was a general pain in the ass."

"Was he a pain in the ass when you confronted him last Saturday night?" Styles asked.

"I told you, I wasn't there," Mox repeated.

"My client already answered that question, detective," Alexa snapped. "Don't waste our time."

Mox smirked as both detectives studied Alexa more closely. They were realizing that inside that petite blonde-haired blue-eyed body was a shrewd attorney who wasn't taking any prisoners.

"Our apologies," Cena offered. "Mr. Moxley, where were you Saturday night?"

"Joe Seanoa took me to this place to get a good hot dog," Mox explained. "I hadn't had one since I went to prison."

"Falsely accused and convicted," Alexa added.

"Place was Sane's Sports Center," Mox continued with a slight grin. "He and the owner seem to be good friends. And he was right about the hot dog. After eating, we spent some time playing games, hitting the batting cages, stuff like that. Then we drove around. I wanted to see how the city'd changed since I'd been away. Then we went home."

"Didn't go near Rollins' bookstore?" Styles asked.

Mox shrugged. "Maybe in that general area. Didn't go past it, though."

"Where were you between the hours of 9pm Monday and 3am Tuesday?" Cena asked.

"Home. Working on my new motorcycle and then to bed."

"Any witnesses?" Styles sourly asked.

"Roman was helping me with the bike," Mox answered.

"Ever go to a place called _Truthful Eats_?" Cena asked.

"No. Never heard of it."

Cena leaned forward. "Cards on the table, Mr. Moxley. We know you were falsely accused and framed for the murder of Renee Young. The evidence proves that former Detective Jack Swagger and former CSI Agent Zebulon Colter did the framing. What we don't know is why. Now we have a tip stating you and Mr. Seanoa had a confrontation with another murder victim, Michael Mizanin, about 48 hours prior to his murder. On the surface, there's nothing to connect these murders except you."

"Is that an accusation, detective?" Alexa demanded.

"No, Ms. Bliss. It's an observation," Cena calmly answered, his eyes never leaving Mox's. "What should be a concern to Mr. Moxley is how all this could affect Mr. Reigns." He saw Mox's blue eyes darken. "From what we can tell and from what you've told us, Mr. Reigns is your brother and someone who feels the same about you. It would be a shame to drag him down as well. So, if you have anything…anything at all to tell us about either of these murders, now is the time to do so."

"My client…" Alexa began.

"I've told you everything I know, and it's all the truth." Mox angrily spit out the words. "Leave Roman out of this."

"He's making himself involved," Cena pointed out. "For your sake. Don't make him regret that."

"**ENOUGH!**" Alexa stood, slapping her hands on the table. "You've crossed the line, Detective Cena. We're done here. Don't **ever** attempt to question my client without either myself or Mr. Regal being present. Is that understood?"

Styles' eyes widened in surprise at her fury.

"No lines were crossed, Ms. Bliss," Cena pointed out, still staring at Moxley.

"Not legally and perhaps not even ethically although I could make a good argument that you stomped all over that line," Alexa retorted as she grabbed her briefcase. "But we both know what you were threatening. We're leaving."

Mox got to his feet and followed Alexa to the door.

"Mr. Moxley?"

Mox halted at the sound of Styles' voice. He partially turned his head and waited.

"Keep yourself available. We may have further questions."

Mox said nothing but followed Alexa out of the room.

Styles glanced over at his partner with a grin. "She's a little spitfire, isn't she?"

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Mox ignored Alexa's furious mutterings as they took the elevator down to the lobby.

'_Mr. Reigns is your brother and someone who feels the same about you. It would be a shame to drag him down as well.'_

Silently, Mox followed Alexa across the lobby to where the others waited.

'_He's making himself involved. For your sake. Don't make him regret that.'_

Mox stared at Roman who was intently listening to both Regal and Alexa.

'_Don't make him regret that.'_

Mox clenched his back teeth. His instincts were telling him to go back upstairs and knock Cena's teeth down his throat.

'_Don't make him regret that.'_

Mox forced himself to take a deep breath. Assaulting a police detective wouldn't help either himself or protect Roman. And protecting Roman was his first priority.

As he silently followed Roman and Joe to their car, Mox considered various options. They were halfway back to Roman's compound when he silently admitted there was only one option open to him. He felt a sharp pang of disappointment but ruthlessly suppressed it. What he'd planned for his future wasn't anywhere near as important as protecting Roman.

And that was the bottom line.


	15. Chapter 15

Styles threw himself into his chair and smacked one hand onto the top of his desk. "Well, that was a lot of nothing," he grumbled.

Cena sighed and sat down at his desk opposite his partner. "We've got their official statements. If we find anything that will disprove what they've said, we'll have something to use against them."

Styles looked at his partner. "You think they had anything to do with Mizanin's murder?"

Cena frowned.

"It doesn't matter what either of you think. It's what you can prove."

Both men looked up at Chief of Police Dean Malenko.

"Yes, sir," Cena nodded. He glanced at Styles who wearily nodded.

"And here's a few things that may help you find something to contradict statements given to you." Malenko smirked as two clerks set file boxes on their desks.

Styles groaned. "What's all that?"

'Mizanin's phone records. Business. Cell. House. Copies of the insurance policies and financial records." Malenko managed not to laugh at Styles' horrified expression. "I've got the forensic accountant going over the financials, however, so just familiarize yourself with them."

"Oh, not him," Styles muttered. When Malenko glared at him, he protested, "What kind of a name is Shyster for an accountant anyway?"

"Meeting scheduled for Friday morning at 9am to go over all this. That gives you two days to work on this data." Malenko chose to ignore Styles' grumbling. "I want a clear idea of where we are on this investigation."

"Yes, sir," Cena nodded. When Malenko walked away, he stood and opened the box on his desk. "What do you want to start with?"

"Surprise me." Styles held out a hand. When Cena handed him the folder he sighed. "Cell phone records."

"I'll take the insurance policies," Cena volunteered, a smile playing across his lips.

"My hero," Styles drawled.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Seth had left the bookstore in the capable hands of Bayley and Finn and gone upstairs to return a call from his publisher. Used to living on his own, he'd almost accepted the publisher's call when his phone rang. But he was determined to keep his identity of R. S. Gyxx hidden, so he let the call to go voice mail then excused himself a short time later.

Idly walking around the upstairs apartment as he listened to his publisher explain that advance copies of the fifth book in his fantasy series were going out to various bookstores to line up pre-orders, he was surprised that Rollins Bookstore was on that list. _'Well, guess I'm going to find out what my new friends think of the book.'_ He asked his publisher to send six copies to the bookstore. One would go to his former landlord in Chicago, and he would give other copies to any of the employees who might be interested.

As he finished the call, he found himself standing in front of one of his great-uncle's bookshelves. His eyes landed on his old high school yearbook, standing next to two of his college yearbooks. Pocketing his cell phone, he reached out and took all three books off the shelf and went to sit on the couch.

He stared at them in stunned silence. He'd had no idea his uncle had them. John Rollins had never expressed an interest in having them, and Seth had never bought any of them for himself. Hands shaking slightly, he set them on the couch next to him and opened the high school yearbook.

Flipping through the pages, he found his picture and began laughing. "Oh, that picture will **never** see the light of day again." Eighteen-year old Seth stared back at him. Dark eyes wide and serious. Hair severely combed back and neatly trimmed. No beard. A face that looked both scared of the future but eager to embrace it.

Then Seth's eyes found another picture. "Roman Reigns," he muttered. "Wow, you haven't changed much." Roman's picture was that of a smiling teenager apparently happy and confident of his future.

Then Seth was rapidly turning pages to find another picture. "Jon Moxley," he breathed. "Oh my God…how could I have forgotten you?"

Perhaps it was because the picture of the teenaged Jon Moxley didn't look like the adult. The teenager's hair was scraggly with bangs falling across his forehead. Defiant blue eyes stared out at the picture. His body language was that of someone having his picture taken under protest and determined to let it show.

Seth sat back on the couch and remembered his first day of school in the tenth grade.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**DAVENPORT HIGH SCHOOL – 2001**

Seth Rollins sighed as he approached the high school. Settling his backpack more firmly on his back, he hoped to have a better year. Maybe he could avoid those who seemed to delight in tormenting him. He told himself that words like 'nerd', 'stupid', 'geek', funny looking', ugly and all the other words had no power over him and couldn't hurt him as much as the physical blows he'd received. He just wished he could believe it.

"Well, look at the nerd all dressed up for school."

Seth groaned to himself. Gallows and Anderson. He quickly wondered if he could outrun them. He didn't want to get beat up before he even got to school.

"Hey! Look at me when I talk to you, nerd!" Luke Gallows spun him around, causing him to lose his balance and stumble sideways.

Karl Anderson laughed. "Is he drunk?"

"Nah! Goody-two-shoes nerd doesn't drink, Karl," Gallows jeered. "You know that. He's just a clumsy nerd."

Seth stepped away. "Leave me alone."

"Or what?" Anderson grabbed Seth's arm. "You gonna do something about it?"

"I will."

The two words were spoken with calm assurance by the teenager who was leaning against a nearby tree, cigarette dangling from between his lips.

"Not any of your business, Moxley," Anderson growled.

Jon Moxley casually took the cigarette from between his lips and flipped it into the street. "Funny thing. You don't decide what my business is. I do." He took two steps away from the tree and rolled his shoulders. "And I decide this is my business."

"You don't have your buddy, Reigns, backing you up, Moxley," Gallows pointed out.

Moxley shrugged and cracked his knuckles. Then he drove towards Gallows, shoulder tackling the other teenager into a nearby tree.

Gallows gasped then slid to the ground, clutching his midsection.

Moxley slowly turned to face Anderson and Seth, his eyes maniacally wide. "Well?" he demanded.

Anderson released Seth and carefully stepped back. "This isn't over," he warned.

Moxley evilly smirked at Anderson. "Go to school, Rollins."

Seth didn't even consider disobeying the order. But as he backed away, he saw another teenager approaching. He recognized him as the son of his Uncle John's friend, Sika Reigns.

"Mox, what are you doing?" Roman Reigns asked with a slight grin.

"Playing," Mox sing-songed.

Roman noticed Seth's retreating figure and then Gallows slowly picking himself up from the ground. "Do we have a problem here?"

"Like I said, Moxley, this isn't over," Anderson warned as he helped his friend to his feet.

"Anytime,' Mox invited. "But that time will come faster than you think if you keep picking on people like you did last year."

Roman stood shoulder-to-shoulder in silent support with his chosen brother and watched as the other two teenagers backed off. Then he smacked Mox in the back. "Finding trouble before you even get to first period?"

Mox shrugged but grinned.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Seth silently stared down at Mox's picture in the yearbook. Gallows, Anderson, and their crew had tried bullying him several times after that day. But, Moxley had always appeared before it got physical. Sometimes Reigns was with him, sometimes not. By the middle of the school year, they hadn't bothered Seth any longer. And from what he could find out, they didn't bully anyone else. How Moxley and Reigns managed it, Seth never knew. But when the two had shown up at Rollins' bookstore to study, Seth had made sure they had whatever reference materials they needed and arranged for other students to tutor or help them if needed.

But he'd never thanked Moxley. The other boy had intimidated him; and, by that time, he was successful at flying under everyone's radar.

Seth closed the yearbook. He didn't know how he was going to do it, but he intended to find Jon Moxley and apologize for never thanking him. And then thank him for saving him all those years ago…and then from the Miz.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Roman carefully watched his brother from the corner of his eyes as they walked into Roman's office. Mox was no longer the in-control man who walked out of prison but more like the Mox of their teenage years. By contrast, Samoa Joe was calm and seemed slightly amused by the entire event at the police station.

"New plan," Roman said. "Starting now, each of you have someone else with you. If you go somewhere together, you take at least one more person with you. The cops won't let you alibi each other from now on, and they're going to have eyes on both of you. Got it?"

"Understood," Joe nodded.

"Yeah," Mox grunted as he walked to stare out the window to the side yard, his right hand tapping his left collarbone.

Roman looked at Samoa Joe and jerked his head towards the open door. "Close it on the way out," he murmured. "And ignore any yelling or things being thrown. Nobody comes in."

Joe glanced towards Mox then nodded.

Mox heard the door to the office gently close and braced himself. His life had always run in a circle. Horrible childhood spun in a circle to a safe loving home with the Reigns' family. Then it spun back around to prison before returning to a safe home with Roman. Now it was circling back to…

"Jon?"

Mox sighed. Roman only called him Jon when things got serious. "Cops warned I'd be taking you down with me," he coldly spoke. "So, I'm leaving."

"You got a place lined up in town?" Roman deliberately misunderstood his brother.

"Leaving town," Mox snapped.

"You're going to run?"

Mox spun around. "Call it what you want. Time to cut the apron strings, Roman," he taunted before glaring at the other man. "You gonna try and stop me? Call your boys in to help you?"

Roman inwardly sighed. This was Mox at his bratty teenage worst. "I told you before that you have a place here as long as you want. If you've decided this isn't where you want to be, I won't stop you. As long as that's what you **want**."

Mox didn't miss the emphasis on the word 'want'. "Since when did what I want ever matter?" he sneered.

Roman refused to be goaded. "You know when that happened," he calmly replied.

Mox began to pace. "The cops will be on you. Watching your every move. Every move the Bloodline makes. If they can use me to take you down, they will." He shook his head. "Not gonna let that happen."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but the cops have been trying to take down the Bloodline since before either of us were born," Roman pointed out. "If you think leaving is going to stop them, you're not thinking straight."

Mox picked up the phone from Roman's desk and threw it to the floor. It shattered against the slate tiles. **"DAMMIT, ROMAN!"**

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Chris Jericho and Aleister Black were approaching Roman's office to discuss some business with him when they heard Moxley's angry yell. Jericho looked concerned but Aleister was looking at a chuckling Samoa Joe who was leaning against the wall outside the close office door.

"Sounds like things are starting to get interesting," Joe commented.

"Uh…should we…" Jericho indicated the closed door.

"Roman said ignore any noises and nobody was to go in," Joe answered.

Aleister calmly nodded. "It's never a good idea to get between brothers who are fighting."

Jericho reluctantly nodded in agreement.

"Especially when one's being an idiot," Joe snickered.

"And which one would that be?" Aleister asked, a slow smile appearing on his face.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Roman kept his face neutral although inside he was cheering. Finally, his brother was coming back to him. He **knew** this Moxley…knew how to deal with him. "Feel better now that you've destroyed my phone?" he calmly asked.

"You can fucking afford another phone," Mox snarled.

"True, but I can't afford to lose my brother again," Roman pointed out.

Mox felt a sharp pang of regret shoot through him. He spun around and threw the desk lamp onto the slate tiles where it also shattered. He leaned forward, arms bracing his weight against the desk. "Roman, don't…," he quietly pleaded, then took a deep breath. "Don't make this harder for me. Let me do this for you." He heard Roman deeply sigh and walk closer to him.

"If you really **want** to leave, I'll help you," Roman quietly promised. "But listen to me first." When Mox didn't answer, he added, "Please?"

After a moment, Mox silently nodded.

"The cops aren't going to stop coming for us. They didn't stop while you were in prison. So, you being here or not being here isn't a factor in what they do," Roman carefully spoke. "If you run…and that's what you'll be doing…they'll see it as an admission of guilt. That you had something to do with Miz' murder and maybe Renee Young's as well. Maybe it'll be enough to get Swagger and Colter off the hook." He heard Moxley growl under his breath and continued.

"Tell me, Jon. Tell me what you really **want**."

"What I want? **WHAT I WANT?**" Mox exploded and began to pace. **"I WANT MY FUCKING LIFE BACK! I WANT THOSE FIVE YEARS THOSE GODDAMNED BASTARDS STOLE FROM ME! I WANT EVERY ONE OF THOSE GODDAMNED SONS OF BITCHES TO PAY FOR WHAT THEY DID TO ME! ALL OF THEM!"**

Furious, Mox grabbed the chair behind Roman's desk and flung it towards the bookcase.

"**I WANT TO BREATHE CLEAN AIR WITHOUT COPS LOOKING OVER MY SHOULDER ALL THE TIME! I WANT MY FAMILY…MY FAMILY AROUND ME! I WANT…I…"**

Mox took a deep breath and slumped against the side of Roman's desk. "I want what you have, Roman," he mumbled. "Family. Friends. People who care." He rubbed his face, surprised at the tears he found there.

Roman slowly walked to his brother and pulled him into a loose hug. He felt Mox shaking and tightened his embrace.

"You'll get all that, Jon," he promised. "But if you run, you can't ever come back. And you'll always be looking over your shoulder. Everything you want will never happen." He took a deep breath and steadied his own voice. "But if you stay, then we fight for what you want. We fight to find out who killed Renee Young and the Miz. **We fight.** Because you are part of **my** family and that makes us part of **your** family."

Mox took several shaky breaths then nudged Roman back. He rubbed his face. "Fight, huh?" he smirked.

Roman seriously nodded. "We fight, Jon. Together." He held out his fist to Mox.

Without hesitation, Mox touched his fist to Roman's.

He was part of the Bloodline. And the Bloodline would always fight for one of their own.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

An hour later, the door to Roman's office opened. Mox ignored Samoa Joe who was still leaning against the wall. Head down, he continued down the hallway and then up the stairs to the second floor.

Samoa Joe turned his head to look at Roman who'd appeared in the open doorway. "Clean up in aisle five?" he joked.

Roman smirked in return. "Mox always insists on cleaning up his messes," he said. "He'll take care of it later. Ask Ricochet and Ali to join me in the office. I need them to make a run to get me another phone and lamp."

Joe snickered. "Black and Jericho were here earlier. Needed to see you about some business."

Roman nodded. "When you see them, tell them I'm available. Then let everyone know that I'm calling a meeting for tomorrow at 8am. Breakfast at 7am. We're going on the offensive to find out who murdered Renee Young and the Miz. Enough of the cops going after you and Mox." He paused then continued. "Make sure everyone knows that Mox is my brother and a part of the Bloodline. Anyone who has a problem with that can see me after dinner."


	16. Chapter 16

Mox hesitated slightly before heading into the dining room the next morning. He was the last to arrive, and his eyes darted to meet Roman's before he walked to the side table and began filling his plate. He knew Roman had told everyone that he was part of the Bloodline, and they would be moving to protect him as well as Samoa Joe and the Bloodline's business interests. Part of him was silently screaming for him to leave before any more trouble came to Roman's door. But a single glance at his brother by choice silenced that particular voice.

The talk around the table was light and on various subjects. Mox even chuckled a couple of times when Naomi swatted both her husband and his twin for some alleged offense. Finally, Roman spoke up.

"The cops are trying to tie Samoa Joe and Mox into Mizanin's murder and still have Mox as a so-called person of interest in the Young murder," he began. "One cop used me to threaten Mox." He saw his brother glance down at his empty plate. "While the new Chief of Police has cleared out a lot of the bad cops, they're still cops. What they're not going to expect is that we're going on the offensive to solve those murders."

"Hoo-wee!" Jimmy laughed. "We're going to out-cops the cops?" He ducked a swat from Naomi.

"Is the Authority involved?" Ricochet asked.

Roman shrugged. "Possibly. If so, we hand them to the cops on a silver platter." He glanced around the table. "Naomi and Ali. I want every details of Renee Young's life from the time she decided to be a journalist until she was murdered. Samoa Joe. I want copies of the police investigation into Young's murder. They were led down the garden path to Mox, and I want a clearer picture of how that was done. And anything you can get on the current investigation of Mizanin's murder as well."

He saw Samoe Joe slowly nod. "Zelina. Ricochet. I want to know everything about Mizanin's business including about his partner and his wife. Every deal that he closed, and every deal he missed out on. And include his two flunkies, Curtis Axel and Bo Dallas."

Roman turned to look at the twins. "Jimmy. Jey. Hit the streets. Somebody had eyes on Mizanin in order to phone in that tip to the CrimeStoppers Hotline. Work your contacts to see what you can find out. Also, see if you can pick up any information on Bray Wyatt. Allegedly his DNA was found in relation to Young's murder."

"Jericho, get everything you can on Bray Wyatt's background. Coordinate with Jimmy & Jey," Roman ordered. "Mox and I will work on finding out what we can about Seth Rollins. Mizanin wanted that bookstore pretty badly for some reason. I'm going to go through my father's files to see what connection he had with John Rollins."

"You think your Dad and Old Man Rollins were working together?" Mox asked.

Roman shrugged. "They had some sort of connection. I want to know what that was." He glanced down the table. "Aleister, a few minutes in my office, please." When Aleister silently nodded, he stood. "That's it, everyone. We'll meet in the library after dinner, around 8pm unless someone finds something critical before then."

"Uh…I just want to say…thanks," Mox spoke up. He took a deep breath. "I was going to leave until Roman pointed out that wouldn't stop the cops from coming after the Bloodline."

"Hey, man, no sweat," Jey grinned as he got to his feet. "It's family, man."

Roman saw the emotion briefly flash in Mox's blue eyes before he silently nodded. He put a hand on Mox's shoulder. "Give me five minutes with Aleister, then we'll get started."

Once in Roman's office, Aleister closed the door behind them then turned to face Roman who was leaning against his desk.

"Thank you again for last night," Roman quietly spoke.

Aleister briefly inclined his head in acknowledgement. "You said part of my job would be to challenge any decision you made…to make sure the decision wasn't made in haste or…for other objectionable reasons."

Roman briefly smiled. "Are you still satisfied that I've made the correct decision?"

Aleister hesitated then nodded. "You're correct the police will keep coming after us. Mox is just another weapon they believe they can use against us. Samoa Joe was impressed with how he handled the situation at Rolllns' Bookstore. Zelina and Naomi feel he's loyal to you. Zelina's instincts are rarely wrong."

"I have something I need you to do that is to be strictly between the two of us at this point," Roman confided. "Most certainly, Mox isn't to know anything about it." He took a deep breath, then continued. "I want to know about Mox's time in prison. From the day he walked into that place until the day he walked out of it."

Aleister studied Roman's face for several seconds, hearing a tone in his voice that was heard only on rare occasions. "You're looking for vengeance."

"If necessary," Roman grimly answered. "God knows Mox isn't the easiest person to get along with. I'm pretty sure more people than Samoa Joe heard us in here yesterday afternoon."

"But you think there might be more involved that not being an easy person to get along with?" Aleister probed.

"Let's just say, Mox may have let something slip out that may have referred to his time in prison," Roman answered.

Aleister silently nodded and turned to leave. "I'll get right on it."

A few minutes after he left the office, Mox strolled in. "This is going to be boring, isn't it?" he grunted.

Roman grinned and pointed to the computer. "I'll show you the databases where you can start checking on Seth Rollins. While you're doing that, I'm going to start going through Dad's stuff."

They'd barely had enough time for Mox to started making threats under his breath against Roman's computer when Samoa Joe entered the library. "Sorry to disturb you, but you need to hear this."

"What now?" Roman asked, glancing at Mox who was scowling at the computer monitor.

"I got a call from a source I've got in the coroner's office," Samoa Joe explained. "The coroner got a call from the Chief of Police that two autopsies needed to be done immediately. Complete with full tox screens. Swagger and Colter were found dead in their cells this morning."


	17. Chapter 17

"What the hell's going on around here?" Adam Cole furiously hissed.

Chief of Police Dean Malenko glared at him. "Two prisoners died while in police custody," he icily replied in a low voice. "Anything else is speculation at this point until we get the results of the autopsy. I've ordered the Coroner to make them a priority."

Cole took a deep breath. "Anything on the security cameras?"

"Nothing that helps," Malenko grunted. "Nobody entered either Swagger or Colter's cells during the night. The last person to have contact with them is Officer Heath Slater who delivered their meals yesterday evening. I've sent officers to his house to bring him in."

Cole nodded and leaned against the wall. He waited until a couple of officers walked past them before continuing. "I'm bringing in two investigators to handle the investigation into what happened." He looked almost apologetic. "You know your department can't investigate this."

Malenko grimly nodded. "You'll have our full cooperation."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Find anything?" Roman quietly asked.

Mox grunted. "I can tell you where Seth Rollins has lived since graduating college. All apartments or rented houses. Nice middle-class neighborhoods. Does some traveling, mostly touristy stuff. Drove a four-year old car while living in Chicago but sold it about two months ago after it was sideswiped by a drunk driver." He looked at Roman. "Boring."

Roman absently nodded. "I think I've figured out what his source of income is. Found an entry in Dad's journal where John Rollins alternately bragged about what Seth was doing then complaining that he was wasting his education."

"What was he doing?" Mox asked after a few seconds of silence.

Roman grinned. "I'll show you." He led the way out of his office and down the hall to the library. He paused, then went to one bookshelf. "Ah, here they are." He pulled out a book and handed it to Mox who glanced at the title.

"_Murder in the Big Easy_?" Mox looked up at Roman. "Seth Rollins is Colby Lopez? He's a writer?"

Roman nodded. "Mystery novel. He wrote another one." He handed the second book to Mox.

"_Death Comes Easy_." Mox shrugged. "Does this stuff make any real money?"

Roman chuckled. "According to what Dad wrote, both books debuted pretty high on the New York Times Best Sellers list. I bet if you checked, you'd find out they've been printed in a lot of languages and gone through several printings." He gave the third book to Mox who carefully balanced it on top of the other two. "This one was made into a television mini-series. I'm sure that brought in a nice chunk of money."

"_Deception By Design_." He frowned. "Different author name."

Roman nodded. "That book is a spy thriller. Written by Tyler Black. AKA Colby Lopez. AKA Seth Rollins."

"Why the different names?" Mox mused.

Roman shrugged. "Maybe he wanted each type of book to stand on its own." He suddenly grinned. "Wonder what he's writing now?" He clapped Mox on the shoulder and walked out of the library. He refrained from grinning when Mox followed, carrying all three of the books.

"Found out what the connection was between Old Man Rollins & your Dad?" Mox asked as he set the books on one of the side tables.

Roman nodded. "Apparently, Old Man McMahon's organization was starting to get some of the kids in that neighborhood to do small jobs for them. Some of the kids who'd been studying in that bookstore weren't showing up. Rollins went looking for them and got most of them back to studying."

Mox grinned, showing dimples. "Yeah, I don't think too many of us kids ever said 'no' to that man. Vinnie Mac get steamed?"

Roman nodded. "From what Dad wrote, he showed up at the bookstore just as McMahon did. The two of them had words, but McMahon left." He leaned back in his chair. "Because the two of us were in and out of that bookstore, he and Rollins came to an 'agreement' as Dad called it. The Bloodline protected that neighborhood from McMahon and didn't do any business there."

"What did your Dad get in return?"

Roman slid the journal across the desk so Mox could read the entry.

'_In return for protection and safety, Roman and Jon have a safe place to study. For whatever reason, their study habits are more productive there than at home. Probably because Rollins rules with an iron fist. In his opinion, I'm not strict enough with them.'_

"Rollins thought your **Dad** wasn't strict enough with us?" Mox exclaimed.

Roman nodded. "Imagine how he dealt with Seth."

Mox snorted. "No wonder he walked around like a ghost. Probably afraid to say much of anything." He flopped down in his chair. "Doesn't explain why Miz wanted that bookstore so badly."

"Hopefully Zelina and Ricochet can find that out," Roman nodded as he closed his father's journal.

Mox slid Roman's laptop across the desk. "Here, you can have this thing back."

Roman chuckled under his breath as Mox's phone rang.

"Moxley. Oh, hi, Alexa." Mox stood and walked out of the office.

Roman's lips twitched as he exited the programs Mox had been running. He couldn't make out what his brother was saying, but the tone of his voice was…interesting.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Good news!" Alexa happily said. "We've reached an agreement with the realtor and the building is yours. We can sign the papers here tomorrow."

"That's kinda quick, isn't it?" Mox asked.

"Mr. Moxley, you're paying the full asking price. And you're buying it outright. No financing." Alexa chuckled. "Trust me, the realtor isn't going to want to delay the purchase. That building's been on the market for some time."

"Okay, then," Mox nodded. "I just figured it would take longer. What about a business license and all that stuff?"

"Already expedited," Alexa efficiently answered. "I went ahead and processed the paperwork after your meeting with Mr. Regal. Since you gave me the business name, all that's needed now is for you to sign the paperwork and provide a check for the license fee. Have you set up a business account at your bank yet?"

"Uh…no."

"No problem," Alexa assured him. "We'll do everything in your name now then transfer the assets to your business. Are you available tomorrow morning at 11?"

Mox rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache starting. "Sure. See you then."

"I'll confirm with the realtor," Alexa promised. "See you tomorrow morning."

Hearing Alexa end the call, Mox shoved his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. Then he slowly walked back into Roman's office. "Uh…Roman?"

"Hmmm?" Roman managed to keep a straight face as he studied the laptop monitor.

"I think I need some help." When Roman looked up, Mox rubbed the back of his neck. "I bought a building and gonna start a business."

"Oh?" Roman waved Mox back to the chair he'd been sitting in. "Dare I hope it's what I think it is?"

Mox scowled as he sat down. "I bought the building where Dawson had his business."

Roman widely grinned. "Gonna make more great furniture?" he teased.

"That's the idea. I thought about going to the trade schools and seeing if some of their students would like to work on projects. You know, get some actual hands-on experience." When Roman nodded, he continued, "Alexa…Bliss, you know from Regal's firm…well, the building was empty and for sale. She contacted the realtor, and we close the deal tomorrow in her office at 11. She's already got the business license stuff started and mentioned me having a business bank account so I was wondering if you'd go with me to the bank today and work that out."

"Sure." Roman put a hand on Mox's arm. "And I'm going to say this with brotherly love. Mox…you're going to have to learn to use a computer."

"Why?" Mox eyed Roman's laptop with a wariness more suited to confronting a wild animal than staring at an inanimate object.

"Because, as a business owner, you're going to have to pay taxes," Roman explained. "And, I'm assuming you're going to pay those students unless they're going to be unpaid interns."

Mox scowled. "Of course, I'm going to pay them! They're not going to work for nothing!"

Roman nodded in approval. "Well, then, you're going to have withholding taxes to report…"

"You know, you're doing a damn good job of making a case to stop this whole thing," Mox interrupted. "How much 'brotherly love' are you planning on giving me?"

Roman laughed. "Don't worry. Zelina and Ricochet are great with computers. We'll get them to help set you up." He stood. "C'mon. Let's give them a break from their research and head out. Bank first then get you set up with a laptop and business software." He ignored Mox's grumbling. "Oh, by the way, I had a voice mail from Seth. He's definitely interested in high quality furniture for the study hall." He ignored Mox's groan as well.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Yeah."

Cena's eyebrows rose at the growling voice who answered his phone call. "I'd like to speak with Kevin Owens. This is Detective John Cena of the Davenport PD."

There was silence for a few seconds. "I'm Owens. What do you want?"

"Mr. Owens, I'd like a few minutes of your time this afternoon," Cena requested. "Two people people involved in a murder investigation have said they met someone in your club who has provided them with an alibi for their whereabouts at the time of the murder."

"We get a lot of people in Nexus," Owens growled.

"I'm sure," Cena agreed. "I have their pictures, and it will only take a few minutes."

"Be here at 2 this afternoon," Owens said. "Call this number when you get here, and you'll be let in." Then he disconnected the call.

Cena replaced the phone receiver in its cradle and shook his head. "He's obviously not a morning person."

Styles snorted. "Probably didn't leave the club until a couple of hours after closing. When's the meet?"

"Two this afternoon."

Styles leaned back in his chair. "You mind doing it on your own? I'm just starting to make sense of all this. If I stop, I'll never find where I stopped." He opened a drawer in his desk.

"Yeah, no problem," Cena assured him.

"Dammit!" Styles hissed. He slammed the drawer shut and rubbed his forehead.

Cena masked a smile and opened one of his desk drawers. He silently reached into the drawer then set a small bottle of Tylenol on Styles' desk. "I'll get you some water."

"Coffee," Styles grumbled, reaching for the bottle.

"Water's better if you've got a headache."

Styles grunted as Cena walked towards the break room. He made a mental note to stop on the way home and get another bottle of Tylenol. He knew he was going to need it after listening to the forensic accountant in tomorrow morning's meeting.

"Shyster," he grumbled under his breath. "Hell of a name for an accountant."


	18. Chapter 18

Adam Cole looked up as Chief of Police Dean Malenko approached him just as he reached the interrogation room.

Malenko handed him a sealed file. "Coroner's preliminary report on Swagger and Colter." He met Cole's eyes. "I had her seal it. She's the only other person who knows what's in it." He then turned and walked away.

Cole's blue eyes twinkled in amusement as he broke open the seal and pulled out the report. He absently grunted as he read, then put the report back into the file. "Great. Just great," he muttered.

He opened the door and walked into the interrogation room. The red-haired man sitting at the table silently watched as Cole activated the camera to record the interrogation. As Cole sat down, he identified himself and gave the date, time, and place of the interrogation. Then he had identified the other man.

"Officer Heath Slater, do you know why you're here?" he asked.

Slater shook his head. "Nobody told me. But I heard a couple of cops talking about two prisoners who were found dead this morning."

Cole sighed. Cops were as bad to gossip as anyone else. "Did they mention the prisoners' names?" When Slater shook his head, he continued, "Zeb Colter and Jack Swagger."

"You're shitting me!" Slater exclaimed. When Cole raised his eyebrows, he swallowed hard. "Sorry. But…both of them?"

"Yeah, both of them," Cole nodded. "And, according to the security tapes, you were the last ones to see them. When you delivered their dinner."

Slater nodded. "Dinner's delivered between 6 and 6:30. Last night was roast beef, potatoes, peas, rolls, slice of apple pie and water."

"That's all?" Cole asked.

Slater nodded, then shrugged. "Well, except for the cold medicine."

"Oh?"

"Couple of the prisoners had been complaining about sore throats and coughing…not able to sleep because of it," Slater explained. "Doc okayed giving them some nighttime cold medicine to relieve the symptoms and help them sleep. Pharmacist added it to the trays for those prisoners."

Cole's eyes flickered to the file on the table, and he hummed under his breath. "Who was the pharmacist?"

"Io Shirai." Slater hesitated, then curiously asked, "So…what happened to them?"

Cole looked across the table. "They died."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Cole wasn't surprised to find Malenko waiting for him when he left the interrogation area. The two moved to a quiet corner where they wouldn't be overheard.

"You and your department can't investigate this," Cole began. "I've got a team of investigators coming from my office for that. But I am relying on you for logistical support." He studied the other man for a few seconds. "You've got a hell of a reputation for being honest so I'm trusting you." He silently added, _'Up to a point, that is.'_

"Coroner says both Swagger and Colter were killed by strychnine poisoning," Cole explained. "Ingested probably with food or drink. If it had been with their food, the taste would have been really off; and they probably would've stopped eating. However, both of them had complained of cold symptoms and not sleeping well because of them. The doctor okayed a nighttime cold liquid. Officer Slater confirmed the pharmacist provided it to be delivered with their dinner meals. They would take it when lights out occurred. The bitter taste of strychnine would be covered by the taste of the cold medicine."

"Who's the pharmacist?" Malenko angrily asked.

"Io Shirai." Cole glanced around then back to Malenko. "I need to know if she's on duty today. If not, then her address and a couple of officers to accompany me. I need to ask her some questions."

"You've got it," Malenko promised.

When the Chief of Police walked away, Cole took out his phone and sent a quick text. _'Contact me as soon as you arrive.'_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Cena knocked on the front door of the club, Nexus. He waited patiently for nearly a minute before knocking louder. When nearly another minute had gone by, he started to reach for his phone when he heard the door being unlocked. By the time the door was opened, he had his badge in his hand.

"Sorry! I was stacking bottles when you knocked." A smiling red-haired man opened the door and waved him inside. He glanced at Cena's identification. "Nice to meet you, Detective Cena."

"You're not Mr. Owens," Cena said as he replaced his badge.

"Sami Zayn. Co-owner of Nexus. Kevin's at the bar." He turned and led Cena through the entryway. "Kevin! Detective Cena is here!"

Cena glanced at the bar to see a large scowling man glance up then return his attention to a notebook that he slammed shut and put on a shelf behind the bar.

"Detective Cena, this is my partner, Kevin Owens." Sami sat down on a barstool and motioned for Cena to also sit.

"What's this about?" Kevin demanded in an abrupt tone of voice.

"I'm investigating a murder," Cena explained as he sat down.

"What's that got to do with us?" Kevin demanded.

"Kevin, give the man a chance to explain," Sami gently urged.

Kevin threw his partner an aggravated look.

"Two potential suspects have provided alibis for the murder," Cena explained. "But one of them said he met his alibi witness here. I'm hoping you can corroborate that so I can take him off the suspect list." He ignored Kevin's snort of disbelief and put a photo onto the bar. "Do you know or remember seeing this woman in your club?"

"Summer!" Sami grinned. "She's a regular."

"Drinks Mai Tais," Kevin snarked.

"She's not your suspect, is she?" Sami asked.

Cena shook his head and put another photo onto the bar. "Ever see her with this man?"

Kevin snorted. "Yeah." He glared at Sami. "I still say he's a stalker."

"C'mon, you don't know that," Sami good-naturedly protested.

"Why do you think he's a stalker?" Cena asked.

Kevin shrugged, looking irritated at having provided Cena with a piece of information. "Comes in. Orders a beer, maybe two throughout the evening. Keeps watching people."

"Summer told me that he's just really shy," Sami explained. "She called him Bo." He grinned. "She'd get him onto the dance floor and try to teach him some moves."

"She's a good dancer," Kevin reluctantly admitted. "But him…a total disaster."

"Can you remember the last time you saw them here?"

Sami hesitated then shook his head. "Not for sure, no."

"Told you. We get a lot of people in here," Kevin added.

Cena put the photos back into his jacket pocket, then stood. "Thank you for your assistance. I appreciate your time."

Kevin grunted and leaned against the bar, obviously waiting for Cena to leave.

Sami walked Cena to the front door and unlocked it. "I hope we were able to help."

Cena nodded. "Thanks again." As he stepped onto the sidewalk, he heard the door being locked behind him. He hoped Sami was the bartender during club hours because the bar sales would be low if Owens was doing the job.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Io Shirai lived in a rented one-story house in a quiet residential area. An area where lawns were mowed and neatly trimmed, and houses maintained in good condition. A quiet neighborhood where people got up in the morning and went to work while dropping their kids off at school.

Except Io Shirai had arranged at the end of her shift the previous day to take a vacation day. In the middle of the week.

There was a car parked in the driveway that turned out to be registered to Shirai. But no one answered the door.

"Keep knocking," Cole ordered one of the officers. He turned to the second officer and pointed towards the back of the house. "Go that way. Look in all the windows to see if you can see anyone. I'll go this way. We'll meet in the back."

Cole carefully looked through all the windows until he came to a bedroom window. That's when he saw Shirai lying on the floor. He grabbed his radio and called to the officers who'd accompanied him. "Suspect lying on bedroom floor. Start breaking down the door." By the time, he's arrived at the front door, it had been half-way kicked open by the officer he'd left there. He and the other officer kicked together, and the door swung open.

"Clear the house," Cole ordered as he made his way to the bedroom. As he heard shouts of 'clear', he entered the bedroom.

Beside Shirai's body lay a gun that Cole judged to be a .38. Blood pooled beneath her head. Cursing under his breath, he felt for a pulse that he realistically knew was non-existent.

"House is clear, sir."

Cole looked up from where he was kneeling next to Shirai's body. "Call the coroner."

"What about forensics?" the officer asked.

"I'll call that in." Cole knew it would take time for the State Police Forensics Department to respond, but he couldn't allow the locals to be involved. He made that call and requested some State Pollice officers to canvass the neighborhood. It would have to do until his team arrived. He was assured assistance would arrive within an hour. Then he placed another call.

"Malenko."

"Shirai's dead," Cole spoke. "Looks like a self-inflicted gunshot to the head. I've called the State Police Forensics to investigate. They'll make the official determination." He waited as Malenko cursed.

Finally, Malenko sighed. "Understood." He abruptly hung up.

Cole put his phone back into his pocket and walked to the hallway.

"Coroner's on the way," one of the officers reported.

"Secure the scene," Cole ordered.

"Should we canvass the neighborhood?"

"I have a team on the way for that," Cole replied. He stepped back into the bedroom and looked around the room. He spotted a sheet of paper lying on the small table next to the bed, anchored by a small cell phone.

He ended his call and walked to the table. He could easily read the words.

'_I do this for Him. He is everywhere.'_

Cole frowned. _'He? Him?'_ He glanced over his shoulder at the dead body. _'Was she talking about God?'_

Shaking his head, Cole walked back into the hallway. "What the fucking hell is going on here?" he asked himself.


	19. Chapter 19

"Thanks for coming so quickly. Bobby & Kyle doing the neighborhood interviews?" Cole shook the hand of one of his investigators.

Roderick Strong nodded. "They'll have reports ready later today. Figured we could go over everything at a work session at the hotel."

Cole grinned. "Whose turn is it to choose dinner?"

"Bobby's," Strong grinned in return. "So, you know it's gonna be Italian."

Cole mock groaned then motioned for Strong to follow him. "Our victim's been officially identified as Io Shiari, PD pharmacist. The Chief of Police identified her as well as her two cousins listed as next of kin." He glanced over his shoulder. "She left a cryptic note. All it said was _'I do this for Him. He is everywhere.'_ I'm having the handwriting analyzed to make sure it's Shiari's."

"The locals are involved?" Strong asked.

"As little as necessary," Cole admitted. "The analysis is being handled by the State Police." He paused in front of a door. "I fucking hate this," he muttered. Then he opened the door and entered the interrogation room.

Strong followed, closing the door behind him. He saw a man and woman, both Japanese, sitting close together at the table.

"I apologize for the delay in speaking with you," Cole quietly spoke as he sat down. "I'm Special District Attorney Adam Cole and this is Investigator Roderick Strong." He paused for a few seconds. "We're truly sorry for your loss. I wish I could make this easier, but we need to ask you both some questions."

The woman slightly nodded.

"I understand you're Asuka Urai and Shinsuke Nakamura, and you are…were cousins of Io Shiari. Is that correct?"

"Yes," Asuka nodded. "Shinsuke and I came to this country five years ago. We own a martial arts studio and train people. Io came here two years ago."

"Did she ever mention being involved with anyone? Romantically?" Cole asked.

Nakamura muttered something in Japanese.

Asuka sighed. "Io was very proud of her accomplishments," she explained, putting a hand on her cousin's arm. "But she…was not happy with her personal life. She was lonely." She glanced down at the table. "She wanted a family…children."

"And did she meet someone?"

"About eight months ago, she started mentioning someone," Asuka nodded. "She said he understood her…make her more comfortable with her life and choices."

"I asked her…again and again…who **is** this man?" Nakamura bitterly added. "What is his job? He should have come to us…with Io…so we could meet him as was proper."

"You never met him?" Cole frowned.

"She would not even tell us his name!" Nakamura hissed. He shrugged Asuka's hand from his arm.

"All she called him was 'he'," Asuka added. "She would say 'he says' or 'he suggests'." She sighed. "When we would press for more, she would become silent. And we wouldn't see her for days."

Cole leaned back in his chair, then glanced at Strong. "Was she still seeing him…whoever he was?"

Asuka shrugged. "She stopped talking about him. Perhaps three or four months ago?" She glanced at Nakamura who nodded.

"She refused to answer any questions about him being in her life," Asuka continued. "I hoped…that he was gone." She lowered her head. "It was not right that he was kept from us. I thought perhaps he was married…and had broken up with Io…that she was embarrassed." She took a deep breath. "I should have been more…forceful. I should have demanded answers."

"I didn't know your cousin; but from what I've heard here, I don't think you would've gotten any answers that way," Cole gently spoke. He glanced at Strong who slightly shook his head.

"Io would not have taken her life," Nakamura firmly said. "Even if she was embarrassed or unhappy. She would **not**."

Cole nodded. "At this point, all I can say is that nothing is being ruled out. And what you've just said will be considered as well. If either of you can think of anything else that would help, please give me a call." He handed one of his cards to both Nakamura and Asuka. "Again, I'm so sorry this happened."

Asuka took a deep breath and stood. "Thank you for your courtesy," she formally replied.

Nakamura silently nodded and also stood.

Strong walked them to the door. "I'll escort you out."

Cole sat silently, lost in thought until Strong returned.

The investigator leaned against the wall and slightly smiled at the expression on Cole's face. "Come up with something?"

Cole nodded and motioned Strong to sit next to him. He lowered his voice and said, "Three or four months ago. That's when Shiari stopped talking about 'him'. That's when the DNA evidence put Bray Wyatt at the scene of the Renee Young murder and exonerated Jon Moxley. That's when Wyatt disappeared."

Strong sat down next to Cole. "You think Shiari helped him disappear? Was involved in that murder?"

Cole slowly shook her head. "Not without some strong evidence to prove it." He took a deep breath. "Shiari gave poison to Colter and Swagger. Maybe they framed Moxley for a reason other than Swagger being jealous." He slowly shook his head. "We need to see if there's a connection between Swagger and Colter with Bray Wyatt."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"After your meeting tomorrow, we'll help you get everything set up." Zelina Vega managed not to smile at the look on Mox's face. It was a mixture of trepidation and distaste.

"Yeah, thanks," Mox mumbled as he rubbed his jaw. Then he smiled at the young woman. "Really…thanks for your help." He glanced at Ricochet who was stacking the software packages on the small desk in Mox's room. "Both of you. It's just…"

Ricochet nodded and grinned in return. "It's as intimidating as hell in the beginning. There were a couple of times I swore I'd throw my computer into the ocean. But once you learn each program, it gets easier."

"The process is the same each time you use it," Zelina assured him. "You'll just be entering different data." She impishly smiled and patted his arm. "Roman managed to learn it so I know you can."

"Yeah," Mox nodded, not sounding all that confident.

"Spilling secrets, Zelina?"

Zelina's eyebrows rose as she looked over Mox's shoulder. "Trust me, it's no secret."

Roman staggered against the door jam, putting a hand over his heart. "Got me dead center," he groaned. He grinned as Ricochet and Zelina left the room.

Mox sat on the edge of his bed. "I dunno, Roman. They keep telling me it's not that hard, and I'll pick it right up." He ran a hand through his hair. "You know I was never that good with stuff like that."

"Neither was I," Roman admitted as he sat next to Mox. "But Zelina's right. I learned. Hell, even Dad learned to use a computer. But would you like another piece of advice given in brotherly love?"

Mox groaned but nodded.

"Learn to use the programs because you're the boss. The ultimate authority. Things go right, you get the praise and glory. Things go wrong, you're responsible." Roman nudged Mox. "But it wouldn't hurt to hire someone to run the office for the day to day stuff. Even better if they have a background in accounting, accounts payable, and stuff like that. But you still need to know how to do it so you can make sure things are done right."

Mox took a couple of deep breaths. "I'm thinking that I didn't think this through enough," he muttered.

"Yeah, you did. You know where you want to go. And nothing's ever stopped you from doing what you want. This isn't any different." Roman grinned as he stood up. "I'll see you at dinner in a couple of hours. We'll discuss business over pizza."

Mox nodded as Roman left the room. He glared at the boxes of software programs and his new laptop then flopped back onto the bed. "What the hell have I gotten myself into?" he muttered.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Thank you for coming at such a bad time. Please accept my sincere condolences and allow me to help in any way I can."

Both Asuka and Nakamura politely bowed their heads.

"We will allow the police to investigate. But there will be eyes on them the entire time. And the police will have eyes on the both of you as part of their investigation." The man paused. "And so will others," he meaningfully added.

"They shall see nothing but a grieving family," Nakamura promised. "But honor must be satisfied," Nakamura grimly answered the man who stood before them.

"And it will be," the man solemnly promised. "Honor satisfied and vengeance meted out." He wasn't surprised that it was Asuka who smiled at the idea of vengeance.


	20. Chapter 20

They might have been any group of family and friends gathered to enjoy an informal pizza party. But instead of discussing sports or politics or just gossiping, they were gathered to solve murders and defend their own.

Roman let the conversation drift as they consumed pizzas, wings, and salads. Naomi scolded her husband and brother-in-law on their table manners. Zelina and Aleister sat with their heads together, quietly talking. Jericho, Ali, and Ricochet were involved in a puzzling conversation about the perfect meatloaf recipe, each suggestion more outlandish than the previous one. Samoa Joe and Mox traded verbal jabs about Mox's motorcycle restoration project.

Eventually, the conversations began to lag; and Roman cleared his throat. Everyone looked at him, realizing they were about to get down to business.

"I know there hasn't been much time to gather information," Roman began. "But I want to bring everyone up to date. Naomi…Ali, what have you found out about Renee Young?" From the corner of his eye, he saw Mox lean forward.

Naomi glanced at Ali who nodded. "Renee Young was born in Toronto, Canada and grew up there. She graduated the University of Toledo with a degree in journalism. She started at a feature reporter for a local television station. You know, the one who reports on the man-bites-dog type of stories. Got a reputation for being ambitious which brought her into conflict with some of the older, more established reporters." She shrugged. "Depending on who you talk with, she wanted them out of her way because they were just resting on their laurels and keeping younger people down or the older journalists knew she was a lot better than them and didn't want the competition. Bottom line, the station manager sided with the older reporters. He wrote a bunch of glowing recommendations and reached out to a colleague here in Davenport that he'd worked with in Chicago years before. The editor of the Davenport Daily…the one who disappeared."

Ali took up the story. "Once here, she made her mark by doing feature reports on a public access cable station and concentrating on covering the political and crime beats for her newspaper column. I talked with a former colleague of hers on the Davenport Daily who's now in San Francisco. He said she had a list of people and topics that she was working on. One was the Bloodline and your father, Roman."

"Yeah, she tried pumping me for information on Sika," Mox grunted.

"She was also working on a background story of Mayor Heyman and one on Bray Wyatt." Ali half-smiled. "According to her former colleague, she wanted to be the best-known journalist in America and then planned to return in triumph to Toronto."

"Wyatt's DNA was found at the murder site," Roman mused.

"What she apparently was **not** working on was anything concerning the Authority," Ali concluded.

"That could have come later depending on what she found out about Heyman," Jericho pointed out.

"Anything else?"

Naomi grinned. "Saved the best for last. Apparently, Swagger fed her information for her columns. They had an off-and-on personal relationship."

"The hell you say!" Jimmy exclaimed.

Roman grunted. "Joe, anything on the police investigations?"

Samoa Joe leaned back in his chair. "I'll have copies of the case file tomorrow. What I can tell you from my contact is that the investigation zeroed in on Mox from the very beginning and never looked at anyone else. Apparently, Swagger received a tip from an informant fingering Mox. The informer was a man named Luke Harper." He slowly smiled. "Harper is a known associate of Bray Wyatt."

Jimmy gave a low whistle. "That kind of matches with what we got from some of our contacts on the street. Rumor was Wyatt was an informant for Swagger."

"As far as The Miz' murder, the cops are still gathering information. Insurance policies, phone records and such," Joe reported. "They don't have any suspects at this point. However, the grieving widow, daughter, and parents have tickets back to Montreal next week. It'll be more difficult to get copies of an active case file."

Roman nodded. "Don't take any chances but make sure your contact keeps you informed."

Joe nodded. "Swagger and Colter's murders are being handled by Special District Attorney Cole. Personally. What I found out from my contact in the coroner's office is that they both died from strychnine poisoning. Provided in a night-time cold medicine by the police department pharmacist at the jail by the name of Io Shairi." He dramatically paused. "She was found dead earlier today with cause of death an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head."

"Madre De Dios," Zelina muttered, crossing herself.

"Cole and some local cops went to her house and found her. Rumor is that there was some sort of suicide note." Joe shrugged. "I'll stay on it."

"Sounds like somebody's cleaning house," Jericho mused.

"Any connection between Wyatt and Shairi?" Aleister asked.

Joe shrugged again. "Possible but unknown at this point. I'm working on getting information on Shairi."

"Okay," Roman sighed. "Find out what you can but take no chances." When Joe nodded, Roman looked at Zelina. "What about The Miz?"

"He and his partner, John Morrison, have been in the real estate business for roughly eight years," Zelina began. "From the beginning, they've been very successful. Both have the reputation of being hard workers and willing to spend the time to be successful. Morrison concentrates on high-end residential properties while Mizanin handled commercial accounts. Mizanin was considered flashy, ambitious, and willing to go to any length to be successful." She glanced at Ricochet. "Ricochet and I disagree on whether the Authority or even Vince McMahon's organization was bankrolling him from the beginning or if a relationship was established later."

Roman silently nodded.

"Both rarely lost a client and prided themselves on that fact," Zelina continued. "Other real estate agents basically hated Miz' guts although that could have been jealousy and envy at beating them at their own game. Morrison is quieter and less inclined to make professional enemies. From all accounts, the two got along very well."

"Morrison and Mizanin had a partnership life policy on each other," Ricochet spoke up. "Most likely, he also had a personal life insurance policy. Miz' wife probably inherits his share of the business although it's possible it could have been left to Morrison. We're trying to get more solid information on that."

"What about Axel and Dallas?" Roman asked.

"The official story is that Miz was mentoring them," Zelina answered. "Apparently, his mentoring consisted of using them as bodyguards and enforcers."

Joe snickered and Mox grunted. "They weren't very good at their job," Joe commented.

Zelina's dark eyes twinkled. "They've left town. Dallas is now employed in a real estate firm in Tampa, and Axel is working for a real estate firm in Hartford, Connecticut. Both have ties to The Authority."

"I'm surprised they weren't eliminated," Aleister remarked.

"Both have family ties within McMahon's old organization," Ricochet explained. "Helmsley might have been afraid of triggering an internal war if he took them out."

"Any reason Miz was so interested in Rollins' bookstore?" Roman asked.

Both Zelina and Ricochet shook their heads. "The buildings on either side of the bookstore were empty for nearly a year before John Rollins bought them," Ricochet explained. "He didn't begin renovations on them until just recently." He glanced at Zelina. "We'll continue to dig on that."

Roman looked at the twins. "Anything else besides Wyatt possibly being an informant for Swagger?"

Jey half shrugged. "Members of Wyatt's family are beginning to be seen more frequently. They went to ground about the time the new Chief of Police came in. But nobody's approached them, and they don't **want** to approach them. They're scary-looking people and Wyatt's got them spooked."

"The only other rumor is that The Authority has a heavy-hitter in town," Jimmy added.

"Really?" Joe's dark eyes twinkled. "How interesting."

"Jericho, anything on Wyatt himself?" Roman asked.

Jericho settled back in his chair. "Lots of stories, mostly spread by Wyatt. He speaks in riddles and parables, weaving a sort of mythology about himself. Alternately claimed to be a god and a scourge of this sinful world."

"A religious fanatic?" Ricochet frowned.

Jericho shook his head. "Wyatt doesn't preach any religion. He preaches himself. Or rather he did before he went to ground. He prefers to work in the background. If Renee Young was doing a story on him, he would've reacted immediately to stop her." He tapped his fingers on the table. "What I can confirm is that he's from Louisiana. Grew up in one of the bayous. Probably self-educated. Speaks eloquently and appears knowledgeable on several subjects in order to appeal to a lot of different people." He glanced at Samoa Joe. "The Luke Harper you mentioned? A former high school mathematics teacher. Got burned out trying to educate uninterested teenagers in geometry and trigonometry. Crossed paths with Wyatt and is now considered his right-hand man. Totally devoted to Wyatt." He looked at Roman. "I'm still getting information on past run-ins with the law."

Roman nodded. "So, what we know is that Renee Young was investigating Wyatt. His DNA was found at her crime scene. Wyatt was an informer for Swagger who targeted Mox from the very beginning of the investigation. Young and Swagger had both a personal and professional relationship." He paused, the slowly continued. "Wyatt eliminated Young because she was asking questions about him and his family then goaded Swagger into framing Mox for her murder."

"Why would Swagger go along with it?" Jey asked.

"Jealousy," Zelina quickly answered. "And taking down Mox for murder would affect us."

"Then the truth comes out." Jericho stared at Roman. "Proof that Mox was framed by Swagger and Colter. Wyatt figures the two of them…or at least Swagger…will make a deal and implicate him. So, they have to be eliminated." His eyes widened. "That means there's a connection between Wyatt and Shairi."

Roman slowly nodded. "Makes sense. Now all we have to do is prove it."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

An hour later, Aleister quietly knocked on the door of Roman's office. When Roman looked up, Aleister asked, "Where's Mox?"

"Working on his cycle," Roman answered. He saw the file in Aleister's hand. "What I asked for?"

Aleister nodded and put the file on Roman's desk. "If you wish vengeance, it can be arranged." Then he turned and left the office.

Roman slowly opened the file and began to read.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

It was nearly midnight when Mox quietly walked through the house, munching on a left-over slice of pizza. He was still getting used to being able to eat whenever he wanted and not just at certain times. He saw a light in Roman's office and curiously walked down the corridor. Roman rarely worked this late. He paused in the doorway, seeing Roman sitting behind his desk and staring out the window into the darkness.

"Roman? Everything okay?"

Roman glanced to where Mox stood in the doorway and slowly smiled. "Yeah. Just thinking."

"Umm…you know I'm gonna close on that building tomorrow," Mox said. "I thought maybe if…well, you could come with me and then I could show you the building. I'll have the keys then."

Roman smiled. "Yeah, I'd like that. What time do you need to be at Regal's?"

"Eleven," Mox smiled. "Thanks, Roman. You know, I probably wouldn't be doing this if you hadn't…" He took a deep breath then continued. "I owe you."

Roman grinned. "Remember what I said? Brothers don't keep score."

Mox nodded then turned around. "Good night."

"Night." Roman took a deep breath, hearing Mox walk down the hallway towards the stairs. _'Brothers don't keep score with each other. But they __**do**__ settle scores __**for**__ each other.'_ He leaned forward and turned off the desk lamp. In silence and darkness, he made his decision.


	21. Chapter 21

Funerals. A. J. Styles hated funerals. Hated them with a passion. But attending the funerals of murder victims was part of the job so he sucked it up. Sat through the funeral service at the church where Mike Mizanin's mother almost fainted then at the brief gravesite service where Mizanin's father almost fainted.

The widow's eyes were bloodshot and swollen. But she held herself with pride telling the priest it was the least she could do to honor her husband's memory. Her mother standing by her side, she endured the murmured condolences when the gravesite service was completed.

Styles followed Cena as his partner slowly approached the widow. He saw Dr. Drake Maverick exchange a glance with Maryse Mizanin's mother and stand slightly behind her, worriedly splitting his concentration between the widow and Mizanin's sobbing parents who were making their way towards one of the funeral home limousines.

Then his ears perked up as Mizanin's partner gently hugged Maryse.

"John, I'm glad you came," Maryse half-smiled.

"Of course. If there's anything I can do, just let me know." Morrison took a deep breath. "As soon as you get settled, send me the name of your attorney. I'll pass it on to the insurance company and set up a procedure to verify what the business owes for Mike's work. In fact, I'm closing on a property later today that Mike was working on. Buyer is paying full asking price so that'll be a nice amount for you."

"Thank you, John." Maryse squeezed his hand. "I appreciate what you're doing for us."

"I'll get to work on selling the house as soon as I can," Morrison promised. "Probably week after next."

"I've changed my mind about selling it." Maryse took a deep breath. "I'm giving it to Mike's parents. They…didn't want me to sell it. But I explained I can't live there. Not after…"

John silently nodded.

"For the sake of my children…I want things to be good between me and Mike's parents," Maryse explained. "It will help them to be in Mike's house…where he was happy." She shrugged. "If they wish to sell it later, they can."

Morrison caught the look of anger on the face of Maryse's mother. "If that's what you want, then you should do it. I think we both know it would mean a lot to Mike to have peace between everyone. Especially for the sake of his children." He hugged her once more. "Give me a call if you can before you leave. And if I can do anything for you, don't hesitate to call."

"Thank you, John," Maryse quietly spoke. As he walked away, he heard Maryse's mother hiss edto her daughter.

"C'est une erreur. Vous ne donnez pas de biens precieux." The older woman struggled to maintain her composure.

Maryse turned and calmly replied, "Chut, Maman. C'est ce que Mike voudrait que je fasse." Then she turned as Cena and Styles approached. "Detectives. Thank you for coming."

Styles' parents had raised him to have manners so he didn't let his dislike of funerals show. And his father had imparted a piece of wisdom to him early in his teenage years. "Always be polite and gallant to women. They eat that up with a spoon. It'll make your life a hell of a lot easier, boy." However, Styles figured that mothers-in-law were immune to it.

"Again, our deepest condolences," Styles said, gently holding Maryse's hand in his. "Honestly, there never seems to be the right words at a time like this. But the service was very comforting."

"Thank you," Maryse sadly smiled.

"Mrs. Mizanin, we'll keep in touch with you about the investigation," Cena promised. "If anything breaks on it, we'll notify you personally."

Maryse hesitated then replied, "You can reach me by phone. I'm returning to Montreal for the birth of our…our child."

"That's not a problem, is it?" Maryse's mother demanded.

"Maman," Maryse wearily spoke.

"Not at all," Cena calmly assured her. He looked back at Maryse. "When are you leaving?"

"Tuesday," Maryse answered.

Styles handed Maryse one of his cards. "Just call my number and leave a contact number before you leave." He half-smiled. "Or text it."

"Thank you, Detective."

"Have a safe trip, Mrs. Mizanin," Cena offered. He looked at Maryse's mother. "You as well, ma'am."

Styles followed Cena as they walked away. He heard Maryse's mutter of 'merde' as Mayor Heyman approached her.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Chief Dean Malenko, this is one of my investigators. Detective Roderick Strong." Adam Cole smiled as the two men shook hands.

"Pleased to meet you, Detective." Malenko looked at Cole as he sat down. "Cena and Styles are on their way up. They just got back from the Mizanin funeral."

Cole pleasantly nodded as he and Strong took their seats in Malenko's private conference room. A few minutes later, Cena and Styles joined them, each carry a file folder. Cole introduced Strong, and the detectives all shook hands.

"I thought it best if we brought you up to speed on the Young murder investigation since it's officially under your control," Malenko looked at Cole who nodded.

"All the physical evidence has been sent to the FBI for testing and re-evaluation," Cena began. "When we explained the situation, that a man had been wrongly convicted, they promised to expedite it as much as possible. We were promised a report by the end of next week. As you know, the State Police Lab matched DNA found at the crime scene with Bray Wyatt."

Cole nodded. "Hopefully, the FBI lab will confirm that. If not, we've got an even bigger mess on our hands."

"What can you tell us about Bray Wyatt?" Strong asked.

Styles opened a file. "Born in Louisiana, near Baton Rouge. Grew up in the bayous. Rarely attended school. However, he's self-educated and is an eloquent speaker. You could probably call him a cult leader. He attracts people who are disillusioned about their lives…maybe even depressed. The few people who have left his so-called 'family' say he speaks in parables and riddles. But it seems that he tailors his words to each individual. With some, it's almost an apocalyptic message. With others, it's the safety and security of family."

Cole leaned back in his chair, silently nodded.

"Wyatt's had a string of minor arrests," Cena continued. "Trespassing. Violation of Orders of Protection. Shoplifting. He moves his family around when law enforcement start watching him closely. He disappeared soon after Young was murdered. We don't know if he and his family moved away or just went to ground. Some members of his family have been spotted in certain sections of the city. But no confirmed sight of Wyatt."

"If his family is here, then so is he," Strong stated.

Styles and Cena silently nodded.

"We've gone through the original case file," Cena unhappily sighed. "It looks like Swagger focused on Jon Moxley right from the beginning. Colter told us that Swagger was in love with Renee Young. She'd made contact with Moxley while preparing an expose on Sika Reigns."

"The Bloodline Sika Reigns?" Strong asked.

Malenko nodded.

"According to Moxley, when she started asking him pointed questions, he told her he wasn't interested and walked away," Cena continued. "About a week before she was murdered. Claims he didn't see or talk to her after that. And we've nothing to contradict that statement."

"And Moxley had a personal relationship with the Reigns family going back to his days in middle school," Styles added. "Even lived with the Reigns family when his own parents abandoned him." He glanced at Cena who nodded. "We pulled some other case files of Swagger's. It looks like he may have been feeding Young information that she used in her newspaper column and public access broadcasts."

"Son of a bitch," Malenko growled.

All four detectives watched him warily as he got to his feet and paced back and forth.

"Anything else?" Malenko finally asked.

Since he'd already been the bearer of bad news, Styles took one for the team and delivered the rest. "There's also evidence in the case files that Bray Wyatt was an informer of Swagger's. It was Wyatt that got Swagger looking in Moxley's direction. Not that he needed much of a push because of Swagger's relationship with Young." He gave Malenko an apologetic look. "And it looks like one of the stories Young was working on was about Wyatt."

While Malenko silently fumed, Cole thought hard then made a decision. When Malenko sat back down, he exchanged a quick look with Strong who barely nodded in return. Then he quietly spoke.

"What I'm going to say doesn't leave this room," Cole said. "I'm taking a big chance on trusting you three. So, God help you if this goes south."

He had the immediate attention of the Davenport cops.

"Swagger and Young have a relationship although it looks like it was more on his part than hers," Cole slowly spoke. "Colter apparently thought so. Young decides to try and get information from Moxley. She overplays her hand, and he walks away. She probably overplayed her hand in asking questions about Wyatt and winds up murdered."

He saw Cena and Styles slowly nod. Malenko kept his eyes fixed on Cole.

"Wyatt sends Swagger after Moxley which probably didn't take much effort because of Swagger's feelings for Young," Cole continued. "Moxley goes to prison, and Wyatt lays low or moves away for a while. Then Wyatt's DNA is found at the murder scene and Moxley's isn't. Swagger and Colter are arrested. Wyatt's now got a big problem. One of them…or both are going to make a deal. Swagger even mentioned it during the interview."

"Judas H. Priest," Malenko muttered, already a step ahead of Cole's explanation.

Cole slowly nodded in agreement. "Swagger and Colter are then poisoned thanks to strychnine in their liquid nighttime cold medicine. Furnished by the PD pharmacist."

"Io Shiari," Cena coldly interjected.

"There was a note found close to her body. On the face of it, it appears to be a suicide note written by Shiari," Cole continued. "I'm having the handwriting analyzed to either confirm or disprove that. I'm also waiting on the coroner's official conclusion of suicide or homicide. We've confirmed that Shiari owned the gun found by her body, and the ballistics match the gun to the bullet in her head."

"What did the note say?" Malenko asked.

Cole hesitated then replied. "It said _'I do this for Him. He is everywhere.'_ Could be referring to God, but what if it refers to Bray Wyatt?"

"How do you get that?" Styles demanded.

"We spoke with Shiari's cousins, her closest family," Strong explained. "One of them said that Shiari was dissatisfied with her personal life and somewhat depressed. She wanted a family…children. Then she started talking about a man she'd met. Never mentioned his name. Just referred to the man as 'him' or 'he'. Her cousins never met him or knew what he did for a living, which was a bone of contention. Shiari stopped talking about him which could have been because it became a problem between her and her cousins."

"You said Wyatt preyed on people who were disillusioned…depressed," Cole pointed out.

"It's possible," Cena nodded. "It actually makes more sense than Moxley and the Bloodline are eliminating anyone connected with his being framed and sent to prison."

"It doesn't matter what's possible," Malenko spoke up. "It's what we can prove."

"The reason I'm telling you this is because it's possible the murders of Young, Swagger, Colter, and Shiari are all connected," Cole finished. "We stand a better chance of solving them if we're sharing information. But it can't go any further."

"Agreed," Malenko nodded. Then he muttered under his breath, "Son of a bitch."

Styles had to agree.

"We'll continue working on finding a link between Shiari and Wyatt." Cole and Strong stood up. "I'll touch base again with you sometime tomorrow, Chief."

Malenko nodded. He rubbed his face as Cole and Strong left the room. Then he took a deep breath.

"Okay. The Mizanin case," he began. "I met with the forensic accountant. Shyster said there are a few items in Mizanin's financials that would show up if he was audited. But he said they would be minor nuisances that could be easily resolved. Other than those little issues, his financials are clean. Both personal and business."

"Mizanin's cell phone records support Axel and Dallas' statements of someone calling from realty businesses in Tampa and Providence," Styles reported. "That could explain Mizanin's phone call to Axel demanding he and Dallas come to the office that late at night."

"I checked on the owners of _'Truthful Eats'_," Cena added. "A few minor brushes with law enforcement. Loud music resulting in a court appearance for disturbing the peace. Things like that. They appear to be small business owners running a takeout place that Mizanin frequented with no connection or motive for Mizanin's murder. As for insurance, there was a partners' insurance policy that his partner, John Morrison, told us about and gave us a copy. Worth two million dollars which is in line for their size of business and generated income. I confirmed that with other insurance agents. Morrison said he was signing it over to Mizanin's wife which I confirmed with the insurance agent in question. Mizanin also had a personal insurance policy for a million dollars with his wife as the beneficiary that he increased to two million after his first child was born."

"So, the widow gets two million that she knew about plus a bonus of two million thanks to her husband's business partner," Malenko mused.

"And she's leaving Tuesday to return to Montreal for the birth of her second child," Cena added.

"Everyone says Mizanin was completely in love with her," Styles pointed out. "No hint of marital problems. Mizanin wasn't well liked by his fellow realtors, but that appears to be professional jealousy."

"We've got statements giving Axel and Dallas an alibi for the time of Mizanin's murder," Cena sighed. "The Crime Stoppers' tip about a confrontation in Rollins' bookstore went nowhere. We interviewed Joe Seanoa, Jon Moxley, and Roman Reigns. Reigns was at the opening for the new casino…used the Mayor as a reference…and had no motive to murder Mizanin. Seanoa and Moxley alibied each other. We interviewed Seth Rollins, the new owner, and he said he was the only one at the bookstore that night and there was no confrontation. The only common factor was that Mike Mizanin, Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns, and Jon Moxley all attended Davenport High School together."

"But, as Seth Rollins pointed out, that means nothing; and he denied knowing either of them although he said Mizanin contacted him after his great-uncle's funeral about selling the bookstore," Styles added. "Rollins said their graduating class was over 300 students. I checked, and it was 327 students. Plus, the previous owner, John Rollins opened part of the bookstore to kids to use to do homework. Some students tutored others. So, it was possible Rollins might have seen them or even met them briefly but nothing that would have been important enough to remember."

"Somebody wanted us to look at Moxley for Mizanin's murder," Malenko mused. "That tip was too detailed."

Styles nodded. "Can't prove it, but I'd bet that confrontation **did** occur."

"Why would Rollins lie about it?"

"That, Chief, is a good question," Cena admitted. "We're going to dig deeper into Rollins' background and keep an eye on him. See if there's any contact between him and Moxley or Reigns."

"Keep me informed."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Congratulations, Mr. Moxley, you're now the official owner of that building." John Morrison pocketed the paperwork and payment for the building in question. "Here are the keys."

Mox stood and shook Morrison's hand. "Thanks for getting this done so quickly."

"My pleasure," Morrison smiled. He nodded to Alexa. "Ms. Bliss."

"I'll see you out," Alexa smiled. "Mr. Moxley, if you can wait in my office? It's across the hall."

When Alexa returned a few minutes later, she found Mox looking out the window. "Anything interesting going on out there?"

"No." Mox turned and half-smiled. "Still getting used to being able to look out windows whenever I want."

Alexa closed the door to her office and sadly nodded. "Okay, I'll process the paperwork to transfer the assets from you to your business," she briskly explained, sitting behind her desk. "The business license should arrive next week. I'll let you know as soon as it arrives." She handed Mox a folder. "That's a handy-dandy checklist of things you need to get done. Arrange for a business phone number. Turn on the utilities. Order furniture. Things like that. Did you get a business bank account set up?"

Mox nodded. "Yeah, that's done."

"Good. You'll need a Taxpayer I.D. number," Alexa continued, not noticing the stress on Mox' face. "I've processed the paperwork for that. It'll apply to both federal and state taxes. I also included copies of forms you'll be needing to make monthly and quarterly reports to the state and federal agencies as well as employment..." She saw the look on Mox's face and frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Mox took a deep breath. "Just…more involved than I thought it would be."

Alexa sympathetically nodded. "Just take it one step at a time," she advised. "And you can always call me for advice."

"Okay," Mox nodded. "Uh…look, I really appreciate everything you've done. Working to get me outta prison. All this stuff. Running interference with the cops."

"It's been a pleasure," Alexa grinned. "I've enjoyed putting the screws to the Man."

Mox barked out a laugh as she stood. "How's the hunt for a new dining room table and chairs going?"

"I found what I love!" Alexa gushed. She opened a desk drawer and pulled out a file. Opening it, she handed a piece of paper to Mox. "I printed it from their website."

Mox carefully studied the picture. Enough scrollwork to make it distinctive but didn't take away from its functionality. "Nice," he finally said. "Oak, huh? Shouldn't collapse on you."

Alexa's eyes twinkled. "I wrote down the pricing on the back."

Mox flipped the paper over then his jaw dropped. "Seven hundred dollars? **For one chair?!** You gotta be kidding me!"

"Nope. The table's is a thousand dollars," Alexa snickered. "But if I buy it all at one time, I get a 10% discount. Oh, and free shipping."

Mox did the quick math. "Nearly four grand for a table and four chairs," he grunted. He noted the website address.

"Just under thirty-five hundred if I buy it all at one time," Alexa reminded him. She took the paper and replaced it in the file. "I'm saving for it, but it'll take a long time to get it. So, I'll make do until then or I see something else."

"But you really like that one," Mox teased.

"No, Mr. Moxley, I **love** it," Alexa grinned. "I'll walk you out. Is someone waiting on you?"

"Roman and a couple of friends are at the coffee shop next door," Mox answered. "I thought I'd take them by the building and show it off a little."

"Good for you!"

"Uh…Alexa…" Mox paused then took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me tomorrow night. Just dinner and…well, just dinner."

"Mr. Moxley, are you asking me out on a date?" Alexa looked up at him.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am," Mox nodded. "No problem if you'd rather not."

"Why wouldn't I?" Alexa asked in a puzzled tone of voice. "Dinner sounds fine. And no need to take me to some swanky place. I'm really more comfortable going some place where we can relax and…just be us. I've got your phone number in the files. I'll text you my address."

"Pick you up around seven tomorrow evening?" Mox asked.

"Sure," Alexa nodded. "And, really…I'm good with burgers and fries."

Mox widely grinned, showing dimples in each cheek. "How do you feel about hot dogs?"

"Sounds good to me, Mr. Moxley."

"Mox, Alexa. My friends call me Mox."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

'_Heading towards the coffee shop now.'_ Mox casually whistled as he replaced his cell phone in his pocket and walked out of the office building

"Moxley! Jon Moxley!"

Mox spun around and stared at the man walking up to him. He glanced around to see if anyone else was approaching him. When he saw no one, he returned his attention to the man in front of him.

He was a tall man. Much taller than Roman who had a few inches on Mox. Broad shouldered with a muscular build. Dark hair and blue eyes with a hint of grey in them. And a British accent.

"Mr. Moxley, I'm Wade Barrett. A reporter for Channel 11 News. I'd like your comment on the deaths of Detective Jack Swagger and Mr. Zebulon Colter."

"No comment." Mox turned to walk away.

"Surely you must have something to say," Barrett moved to stay in Mox's face. "After all, they framed you, didn't they? For murder. You wound up spending five years in prison for a crime you didn't commit."

"I said 'no comment'," Mox growled.

Roman walked out of the coffee shop, deep in conversation with Ali. Jericho glanced to his right, expecting to see Mox walking towards them but saw Mox was being confronted by a man he recognized as a local reporter.

"Roman, don't turn around. Keep walking and get to the car. Ali, you're with him," Jericho quietly ordered.

"Mox?" Roman muttered even as he began walking.

"I'll get him." Jericho turned around, knowing Ali would keep Roman moving to the parking lot. He briskly walked up to Mox and ignored Barrett. "Ready to go, Mox?" he asked.

"Yep," Mox nodded.

"I'm sorry. We've not been introduced. Wade Bar…"

"I know who you are," Jericho calmly interrupted. He looked at Mox. "Let's go."

"Is there a reason you don't want to make a comment, Mr. Moxley?"

Mox took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.

"Easy. Don't give him an excuse," Jericho quietly advised.

Mox nodded and looked over his shoulder at Barrett. "Any statements will be made through my attorneys. They're in that building." He turned around and walked away with Jericho at his side.

"Nice," Jericho nodded in approval.

"Where's Roman and Ali?" Mox asked, pulling out his cell phone.

"Waiting at the car," Jericho explained. "As soon as I recognized Barrett, I got Roman away."

Mox nodded, then spoke into the cell phone. "Alexa? It's Mox. I got ambushed by some reporter named Barrett just outside your office building."

"That jerk," Alexa muttered.

"I refused to comment about Swagger and Colter's murders, and he kept pushing," Mox explained as they walked onto the parking lot. "I told him all statements would come from my attorneys and they were in that building. I'm hoping there a bunch of them."

Alexa laughed. "There are, but we're the only one practicing criminal law. Thanks for the heads up. I'll let the receptionist know. See you tomorrow night."

Mox disconnected the call and shoved the cell phone in his pocket. As they approached the car, he could see Roman's concerned expression. Ali was behind the wheel and had the SUV running.

"Good job sticking with the 'no comment'," Jericho praised as they got to the SUV.

"Yeah, well, the last reporter I talked to got murdered; and I got framed for it," Mox grunted. "Not looking for lightning to strike twice."


	22. Chapter 22

Moxley unconsciously took a deep breath as he unlocked the front door to the building he now owned.

"You'll need to fix that parking lot," Roman grinned. "There are potholes big enough to bury an elephant."

Mox groaned. "Enough, Roman. My head's already swimming." He opened the door and walked inside, followed by Roman, Ali and Jericho. He flipped a light switch to illuminate the room. "Front office and lobby," Mox recalled.

"Surprised the utilities are on," Ali commented, looking around.

"The realtor would've kept them on so he could show potential clients the building," Jericho mused, looking down at the dusty worn carpeting. He started a mental list of things to be done. He'd give it to Roman to pass to Mox. The new owner would probably take it better coming from Roman than him.

Ali waited until Roman and Mox had moved away before muttering to Jericho, "This is gonna take a lot of work just to get it clean."

Jericho masked a grin. "Sorta like Mox's motorcycle project."

Ali's dark eyes twinkled in agreement.

Mox opened a door. "This was Ben's office." He pointed to one wall. "He had a whiteboard with all the open projects on it. Showed the status of the project and deadlines. Called us in every morning to go over them." He stood lost in thought for a few moments.

"Gonna make your own office furniture?" Roman asked.

Mox nodded. "Look kinda bad if a custom furniture place bought their stuff from IKEA, wouldn't it?" he joked.

"Yeah," Roman nodded with a grin.

"By the way, can you call Rollins and set up a meeting?" Mox asked as he led their way out of the office. "Looks like he's gonna be my first paying client."

"Sure. No problem," Roman nodded.

Mox hesitated. "Probably should tell him about the cops still interested in me. Could change his mind."

"Up to him," Roman shrugged. Then he followed his brother around the empty building as Mox became more and more enthused about his plans.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Alexa hesitated then knocked on William Regal's half-open door.

"Come in." Regal looked up as the door fully opened. "Alexa, what can I do for you?"

"I can come back if you're busy," Alexa offered, her fingers tapping against the doorknob.

"Not at all," Regal smiled. "Please. Sit down."

Alexa closed the door behind her and sat down across the desk from Regal. "I need your advice."

"Of course," Regal nodded and patiently waited.

Alexa thought for a few moments, then took a deep breath. "I'm aware of the professional ethical rules about attorneys having a sexual relationship with a client. Or rather, the prohibition against it."

Regal somberly nodded. "The rule is very clear. Except for a spouse or pre-existing relationship, there can be **no** sexual relationship between an attorney and his or her client. An attorney caught breaking that rule can be…and most likely will be disbarred."

Alexa nodded in agreement. "I wanted to ask your advice about dating a client where there is no sexual relationship. The rule seems…ambiguous about that."

Regal leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across his stomach. And patiently waited.

Alexa sighed. "Mr. Moxley asked me out on a date, and I agreed."

"Are you having second thoughts?" Regal calmly asked.

"No!" Alexa shook her head. "I'm looking forward to it. But…I've been handling legal matters for him and…and I don't want anything I've done or will do to come back on him." She met Regal's eyes. "You know the police still think he's involved in those murders."

Regal slowly nodded. "More likely, they see him as a way to go after Mr. Reigns," he pointed out. When Alexa nodded in agreement, he slowly continued, "I cannot advise you about your private life, nor will I. Except to remind you that law enforcement tried to prove various charges against the elder Mr. Reigns. I believe you met him a few times."

Alexa nodded.

"And when his son inherited the businesses, they turned their attention to him," Regal carefully spoke. "As his attorney, my job is to defend him just as I defended his father. What law enforcement think they know is a much different matter than what they can prove." When Alexa started to speak, he held up his hand. "Mr. Moxley is closely identified with Mr. Reigns. We both know how long they've been friends…family with each other. Any relationship you pursue with Mr. Moxley, platonic or otherwise, is going to bring you into the crosshairs of law enforcement and perhaps the Bar Association. Your actions must be above reproach. Not only for your sake, but for Mr. Moxley as well."

He leaned forward. "Now, you are correct that the rule is very ambiguous about a platonic relationship with a client. That very ambiguity can work both in your favor and against you. My advice, from a professional point of view, is that you do not represent Mr. Moxley or perform any legal work on his behalf. Best to be safe than sorry."

"I understand," Alexa quietly spoke.

"Alexa. If you wish to pursue a relationship with Mr. Moxley, you will need to protect both yourself and him," Regal gently pointed out. "And there's really no need to make a decision now. If your…platonic relationship grows into something more…physical, you can make that decision then." He saw the very moment Alexa made her decision.

"Better to be safe than sorry," she agreed. "As long as I'm seeing Mr. Moxley, I won't represent him."

"A wise decision," Regal somberly nodded. "Would you like me to speak with him about this? I can take the blame for this decision."

"No," Alexa smiled. "I'll tell him after I see how this date goes. It might be a moot point after all."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

After showing off his new building, Ali and Mox waited until Ricochet showed up with Naomi to get Roman and Jericho. Naomi drove Jericho and Roman away while Mox, Ali and Ricochet drove to the Vo-Tech school to meet with the administrator.

"Come in. Please sit down. I'm always happy to meet with business owners willing to give our students an opportunity." Joey Mercury waved his hand towards a couple of chairs. "Would you like anything to drink?"

Ricochet and Ali shook their heads while Mox answered, "No, thanks."

Mercury nodded and sat behind his desk.

"I'm opening a custom furniture store," Mox began. "I apprenticed there some years ago. The original owner retired, and I decided to give owning the business a shot." He was pretty sure Mercury knew who he was, but the man didn't call him out on his abbreviated explanation. "I'm not sure how soon I'll be opening up. The place needs some work, and I need to order equipment. But I'm hoping to have it up and running pretty quickly."

Mercury nodded.

"The original owner taught me. I want to pass that onto others," Mox firmly spoke. "I know that working with your hands isn't valued as much as a big college degree, but there **is** a lot of value in it."

"I completely agree," Mercury nodded. "College isn't for everyone. And we try to instill that sense of pride in our students. I will say, however, that there's not much interest in carpentry or furniture making. But…" He got to his feet and walked to a file cabinet. He opened a drawer and searched for a few seconds before pulling out two files. He closed the cabinet drawer and returned to his desk.

"There are two students who expressed an interest in it. The best we could do was get a couple of shop teachers from local schools to come in to teach them." Mercury sighed. "But they couldn't devote much time for it. Both students are older adults." He opened one file.

"Zack Ryder is in his late twenties," he explained. "Did a stint in the Army right out of high school and, as he put it, quickly found out that reality was much different than playing a video game."

Despite himself, Ricochet snickered.

"Expressed an interest in carpentry as his grandfather had worked in that trade. He's substituted mechanics, but that's not where his heart lies." He opened the second file. "Brian Kendrick is in his late thirties. He admitted to being party-going screw up from his high school days until about eighteen months ago. That's when he was driving home drunk…again…and started to pass out. Before he passed out, he managed to pull the car over to the curb and park. That's when he realized he was at an elementary school at the end of the school day. As he told his counselor, he realized he probably would've blown through the stop sign and hit a child. He hasn't touched a drop since. Or anything else, for that matter."

"And he's interested in carpentry?" Mox asked.

Mercury nodded, closing both files. "He said he liked the idea of creating things. He's taking courses to be an electrician and fairly miserable although his work is excellent."

Mox thought for a moment. "I'd like to meet them if they're available."

Mercury nodded. "I'll have them brought to our conference room. Follow me."

They had settled into the conference room and waited about five minutes before there was a knock on the door. Mercury rose and opened it, ushering two men into the room.

"Zack. Brian. This is Mr. Jon Moxley. Mr. Moxley, this is Zack Ryder and Brian Kendrick."

Mox instantly knew they two of them recognized his name as he stood and shook hands with them.

When they all sat down, he explained about opening his business. "Now, I understand you still have courses to complete here to get whatever certifications you're working on. I really urge you to continue that. This business might crash and burn. Best you have something to fall back on." When they both slowly nodded, he continued, "I don't know if it's possible, but maybe you could also get some sort of certification for working in my business towards carpentry. It's not as specialized as woodworking; but again…it could come in useful in the future."

Mercury slowly nodded as he thought. "I think there might be a way to do that," he admitted. "Let me do some work on it, and I'll let you all know."

Mox nodded. "This isn't going to be some unpaid internship deal, either," he firmly spoke. "You're going to be paid real wages for the work you do…the hours you put in. We'll figure out a way to work around your coursework here although if Mr. Mercury can pull things off on his end, you might be able to spend more time working."

"I'm ready to go full time working for you," Kendrick firmly said. "I understand what you said about having a trade to fall back on. But, I hate what I'm doing. Mr. Mercury worked hard to find something that would interest me. But it just doesn't." He met Mox's eyes. "You're willing to risk your money on your business succeeding. I'm willing to risk my time and efforts for the same thing in order to do what makes me happy."

"I'm not as unhappy as Brian, but I'm with him," Zack agreed. "Your business is what I really want to be doing."

Mox carefully studied both men before speaking. "I don't know how quickly I can get the business up and running," he warned. "Like I told Mr. Mercury. The building needs some work, and I gotta get equipment installed." He looked at Mercury. "Could they test out early?"

Mercury tilted his head back and thought. "It's not unheard of," he admitted. "Especially if they have a job waiting on them. Again, let me work on it."

Mox nodded. "Okay, we'll all roll the dice together." He grinned when Zack and Kendrick smiled back. "Mr. Mercury, I'll let you know when I'll be opening. I still need to find someone to run the office."

"Ummm…I may know of someone…I mean I **do** know someone who's looking for a job like that," Zack hesitantly spoke. "My next-door neighbor ran an office and was good at it. She…uhh…she's looking for a job now."

"Oh?" Mox looked at Ali and Ricochet. "You guys got a pen and something to write on?"

Ali wanted to smile but didn't. He nodded and reached into his jacket, pulling out a small notebook and pen."

"Thanks." Mox began writing. "So why is she looking for a job if she's so good at what she was doing?"

"She wasn't happy with some things she was asked to do," Zack carefully explained. "Outside her job expectations. Right after that, there was some sort of reorganization, and her job was eliminated."

"Sounds like a real sweetheart," Mox grumbled. "Here's the address of the building and my phone number." He tore off two sheets of paper and pass one to each of the students then slid the pen and notebook towards them. "Write down your phone numbers. What time can you meet on Monday?"

"I'm done at 2:30," Kendrick said as he scribbled down his phone number.

Zack took the notebook and wrote down his number. "I'm out at 2."

"Okay, we'll meet at the building at 3:30," Mox decided, taking the notebook back. "If something changes on your end, call me. If something changes on my end, I'll call you." He tore off the paper with their phone numbers. "Gotta order business cards," he muttered as he wrote down his phone number and gave it to Mercury.

As they all stood, Mox gave the notebook and pen back to Ali, then looked at Zack. "Let your friend know to meet us at the building on Monday. By the way, what's her name?"

"Nikki Cross."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Seth Rollins looked up at Roman entered the bookstore. The man next to him looked around with open appreciation while the woman accompanying them chuckled.

"Told you this place is great." She linked an arm with him and they wandered off to look at the books on a nearby bookshelf.

"Hi, Seth. Got a few minutes?" Roman's eyes twinkled as he watched Jericho and Naomi for a few moments then turned to the man behind the counter.

"Sure. You got my message?" Seth asked.

Roman nodded and leaned against the counter. "The guy I told you about is my brother. Jon Moxley." He waited and watched Seth's expression. He was surprised when Seth slowly nodded.

"I remembered him. And you. From high school," Seth quietly spoke. "He saved me from a beating by a couple of bullies."

"Gallows and Anderson," Roman nodded.

"And probably you and he saved me from other beatings that year," Seth continued.

Roman's lips twitched. "Well, they were stubborn little bastards," he admitted. "Anyway, Mox is opening the old furniture store. Going to make hand-crafted furniture and asked me to set up a meeting with you. Probably to go over floor plans, get dimensions and whatever else is involved."

Seth eagerly nodded. "When?"

Roman shrugged. "Tomorrow morning. Say 10:30?"

"That's great," Seth grinned.

"You're sure? I know the cops asked you questions about Mox."

Seth's dark eyes widened. "How did…" He shook his head. "Never mind. I probably don't want to know."

Roman chuckled, then sobered. "Mox is my brother. If you're not committed to having him do this job, then we don't need to meet. The cops were here once. They could come back if Mox is around."

Seth met Roman's eyes and didn't flinch. "Want me to bring coffee tomorrow morning?"

Roman laughed. "Well, it probably would help Mox's disposition," he admitted.

Once in the car and heading home, he texted Mox. _'Talked with Rollins. Meeting set for 10:30 tomorrow morning. Warned him about cops maybe coming back. Didn't seem to faze him in the slightest. He's bringing coffee.'_

He was almost home when Mox texted him back.

'_Good. Coffee helps. I'll talk to him about it tomorrow morning.'_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"And now we go to our investigative reporter, Wade Barrett. Wade?" The attractive brunette smiled into the camera.

"Thank you, Charli." Wade glanced at his notes then began speaking. "Our city has been rocked with several murders and scandals recently. We've learned that a man, Jon Moxley, who was tried and found guilty of the murder of Davenport Daily's Renee Young was actually framed for that murder. An innocent man was sent to prison and served five years. His recent release means that a murderer has gotten away with that crime for five years. Even worse, a police detective and forensic scientist were the ones who framed him. A forensic scientist, who by the way, forged his credentials and managed to obtain employment with the police department. Every conviction obtained through the work and testimony of these two men, Jack Swagger and Zebulon Colter, is now cast into doubt. Then, these two men, while in police custody, were murdered. Allegedly by the police pharmacist, Io Shairi who then might have committed suicide."

He turned slightly to stare into another camera. "What do these all have in common? One man. Jon Moxley. Tried, convicted, and framed by Swagger and Colter who were in turn allegedly murdered by Shairi. I reached out to Mr. Moxley today to get his comments on the deaths of Swagger and Colter, but he refused comment. Surprising for a man framed by these individuals. I also contacted his attorneys who refused comment as well."

He looked back at the first camera. "In addition, a local realtor, Michael Mizanin was recently gunned down in his office. His funeral was today. This murder appeared unrelated to Jon Moxley. But I found out from an informant just before going on the air, that Jon Moxley just purchased a building that the late Mr. Mizanin was selling. One man. Connected to many murders. And he won't comment. Of course, everyone is innocent until proven guilty."

Barrett looked straight into the camera. "I'll continue to pursue this investigation. The people have a right to know. This is Wade Barrett for The Barrett Report. Back to you, Charli."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Mox gave Roman a wary look. His brother was seething and ready to explode. "Ro…" He stopped when Roman held up a hand. He watched with widened eyes as Roman jumped to his feet and quickly walked into the hallway. "**JERICHO!**"

Mox winced as he heard footsteps running towards the living room. "Roman, don't do anything stupid."

Roman ignored Mox as Jericho skidded to a halt in front of him.

"Find out everything about Wade Barrett," Roman ordered through gritted teeth.

Jericho's blue eyes flickered to Mox then back to Roman. He quickly nodded. "On it," he promised, then walked away.

"Roman, stop," Mox urged.

"Stop? **STOP?**" Roman pointed at the television set. "He tried to tie you into multiple murders!"

Mox rubbed his face. "I know. **I know**. But you can't just go off half-cocked. Calm down!"

"I **am** calm," Roman growled. "I've got Jericho checking him out rather than finding the son-of-a-bitch and ramming my fist in his face."

"Uh-huh." Mox didn't look convinced.

"I'm going to change and go down to the gym." Roman spun on his heel and walked out of the room.

Mox flopped back onto the couch and rubbed his face again. He slowly pulled out his phone and stared at it. Barrett's broadcast could easily sink his business before it got off the ground. Rollins probably wouldn't want him to work on his project, and he couldn't blame him. Why bring that kind of heat down on his head? And Alexa…

Mox groaned as his phone quietly chimed with messages. He opened the app and saw the names of Zack Ryder and Brian Kendrick. "Well, it was nice while it lasted," he muttered. He opened Zack's message.

'_May not be my place to say it, but Barrett's full of shit. I'm with you.'_

Mox stared at the message for several seconds, then opened Kendrick's. His was more to the point.

'_Fuck Barrett. See you Monday afternoon.'_

He hesitated then texted both of them. _'Thanks. I appreciate it. See you both on Monday.'_ Then he dialed Alexa.

His name obviously came up on her phone display when she answered the call by saying, "I **knew** I should've kneed him in the balls when he asked about my 'relationship' with you! Barrett is a slimey…"

"Alexa!" Mox interrupted. "Look, I…"

"Don't you dare cancel our date," Alexa interrupted. "Not because of that slimebag Barrett!"

"You've got a reputation to…"

"I understand that and appreciate it," Alexa interrupted again. "But Barrett isn't going to determine who I date or don't date."

"Yeah, but…"

"If you cancel our date, I'll cry," Alexa interrupted yet again. "I'll be very very sad and cry. And then binge out on pastries and become horribly fat. And probably diabetic as well." She waited and was rewarded with a chuckle.

"Can't have **that** on my conscience." Mox rubbed his face again. "You sure?"

"Positive."

"Okay," Mox quietly said. "See you at 7." He sat staring at the phone after Alexa hung up. Then he looked up when he heard Roman's soft voice.

"Jon? Got a text from Seth Rollins."

"Yeah?" Mox stood and shoved his phone into his pocket.

"Yeah," Roman slightly grinned. "Confirming our meeting for tomorrow morning at the study hall."

"Why?" Mox knew he wasn't just questioning Seth's decision but Alexa, Zack, and Kendrick's decisions as well.

Roman walked to Mox and put his hands on his brother's shoulders. "I'm sorry I lost my temper. You were right about that. But not about finding out everything I can about Barrett. Somebody messes with you, they mess with me. And vice versa. Isn't that the way it's always been with us?"

"Doesn't explain Rollins," Mox silently nodded. _'Or the others.'_

"Then we'll ask him."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"**BLOODY FUCKING HELL!"**

Regal was alone in his office, catching up on paperwork. Out of habit, he'd tuned in to the local news and caught Barrett's broadcast. He grabbed the phone on his desk and dialed a number. "Greg? I want a report on every phone call in and out of this office from everyone's phone. From start of business today until now. Identify the number of every call coming in and every call going out. And I want that data now." He nodded then added, "Very good. Send it to my personal email account. Thank you."

He hung up and forced himself to relax. He knew Barrett had been in the reception area earlier in the day trying to find out information on Moxley. Someone in his office had slipped information about Moxley's real estate purchase to Barrett. The paperwork hadn't even been filed at the courthouse so the leak hadn't come from there. It was possible the leak had come from the realtor or someone in his office, but Regal was betting someone in his office had betrayed the confidentiality of a client.

And that someone was going to pay.


	23. Chapter 23

William Regal was waiting in the reception area of his office early the next morning. It wasn't all that unusual for him to call in members of the support staff on a weekend. Sometimes cases began moving swiftly and their assistance was required. However, that wasn't the case today. He took a deep breath when he heard the door of the front office being unlocked. He was going to take satisfaction in what was coming, but he wasn't going to necessarily enjoy it.

The young woman happily smiled at him as she shut the door behind her. "Good morning, Mr. Regal."

"Ms. Morgan," William somberly nodded. "Thank you for coming in."

Liv Morgan's smile grew wider. "Oh, it's no problem."

"Actually, we **do** have a problem," Regal calmly spoke. "Don't bother to sit down. You won't be here that long." When Liv hesitated, then stopped at her desk, he continued. "A reporter named Wade Barret, who I'm ashamed to admit is a countryman of mine, was here yesterday asking about one of our clients. Mr. Moxley."

Regal saw the flash of surprise in her eyes before it was quickly masked.

"That's right," Liv nodded. "Ms. Bliss spoke with him."

"And you called him and broke client confidentiality," Regal sternly replied. He handed her a folder. "You **do **remember signing a confidentiality agreement, don't you?" When she took the folder but didn't open it, he added, "That **is** your signature, isn't it?"

Liv opened the folder, glanced at the paper inside, and nodded. "Yes, but I didn't break confidentiality. It must have been someone else."

Regal sighed. "As you were told when you were hired, a log is kept of every phone call received and made from every phone in this office. The news program that includes Mr. Barrett's reporting begins at 6:30pm. A call was placed to his cell phone at 6:17pm. From the phone on your desk."

Liv automatically glanced at the phone on her desk then straightened her shoulders. "Anyone could've used my phone."

Regal signed again. "Everyone in this building has a security badge that electronically records when they enter the building and when they leave. I've seen the security log for yesterday. Everyone in this office left yesterday between 5:08pm and 6:10pm. Except for you and I."

"I didn't say thing against Mr. Moxley," Liv quickly explained. "All I said was that he'd bought a building."

"I don't care if all you said was that he jaywalked!" Regal angrily exploded. "You say **nothing** about any of our clients! This was clearly and explicitly explained to you when you were hired. You have no excuse for this, Ms. Morgan!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Regal," Liv quietly spoke. "It won't happen again."

"I certainly hope not." Regal took a deep breath. "It certainly won't be happening here." He handed her an envelope. "Effective immediately, you are no longer employed in this office. Gather your personal belongings."

"You're firing me?" Liv burst out.

Regal raised an eyebrow. "You broke client confidentiality. Of course, I'm firing you." He turned to look at the office door when someone knocked. "Come in." He coldly smiled when a man entered the office. "Ah, Mr. Masters." He looked at Liv who hadn't moved. "This is Chris Masters, Assistant Head of Security. He's most kindly brought a box for any of your personal belongings. You will hand over your security badge to him as you leave." His voice deepened and grew colder. "You have five minutes."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Roman had just finished breakfast when his cell phone rang. He saw the name on the display and frowned. "William? Is there a problem?"

"Good morning, Roman," Regal sighed. "Not a problem for you, but a problem has arisen that I need to discuss with you and Mr. Moxley. Would the two of you be available right now? I can be there is about thirty minutes."

"Actually, we have a meeting at 10:30," Roman advised. "Since we'll be in the city, we can drop by your office around 9:30 if that works for you." He heard Regal sigh again.

"Of course, I'll see you then," Regal answered. "Thank you, Roman."

Roman stared at the phone for nearly a half minute after Regal hung up wondering what the hell was going on.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"What's all that stuff?" Mox asked as he met Roman in the garage.

"Heavy boxes," Jey grunted as he and Jimmy shoved the last box into the back of the SUV.

"We're making a stop at your building," Roman grinned as he lowered the hatch. "I got those boxes from Ben Dawson when he closed the business. They're his old business records. I figured you could use them in getting started." He nodded at the twins who walked away towards another SUV.

Mox scratched his chin. "Why would you keep Ben's business records? And why would you have them in the first place?"

"Part of my long-range plans," Roman cheerfully explained. "Step One. Clear your name and get you out of prison. Step two. Reopen the business. If that's what you wanted to do."

Mox stared at his brother for several seconds. "You know, there are times I think I'll never completely understand you," he softly spoke.

Roman chuckled. "No offense, but I've thought the same about you a couple of times." He turned and walked towards the driver's side of the SUV. "C'mon. We need to meet Regal and then drop these off."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Come in. Please have a seat." Regal motioned towards the conference table. "I would've been happy to drive out to speak with you."

Mox glanced at Roman who shrugged. "We need to be in the city anyway." He studied Regal for a few seconds. "What's the problem you mentioned?"

Regal took a deep breath. "I presume you heard that trash from Wade Barrett's broadcast yesterday evening?"

Mox fought back a grin, remembering Roman's seething anger.

Roman's face hardened. "Yeah." He glanced at Mox. "For some reason, I was way more angry about it than Mox."

Mox shrugged. "Until the cops have the person who murdered Renee Young and the others, people are going to talk."

"Yes, well…" Regal took a deep breath. "I'm ashamed to say the part about your purchase of a building came from this office. It was in inexcusable breath of client confidentiality and ethics. That person has been fired and will find it next to impossible to find employment anywhere that requires maintaining confidentiality."

Mox looked confused. "Why? The only people I know here are you and Alexa."

Roman held his breath, hoping Alexa hadn't betrayed his brother.

"She did it for money, I suppose," Regal shrugged. "It was the receptionist. Part of her duties was to log all paperwork into our computer systems to keep track of when paperwork is sent out and where. She saw the paperwork on your purchase and called Mr. Barrett." He coldly smiled. "She forgot that a log is kept of all phone calls. It was a simple matter to find that call which she stupidly made from the phone at her desk."

Regal straightened his shoulders. "I personally want to apologize for this breach of confidentiality. The young lady had been with me for nearly three years; and while she'd given me no cause to even consider she would do such a thing, it's still my responsibility to see that this doesn't happen."

"William, I can't speak for Mox, but you were my father's attorney," Roman spoke after a few seconds. "He had nothing but good things to say about you and your people. That's why I came to you about Mox."

"I appreciate you taking responsibility for this, but you're not responsible," Mox added. "She did it. She's responsible." He shrugged. "Sika trusted you. Roman trusts you. Everything you've done on my behalf has worked out." He shrugged again. "Shit happens. You clean it up and move on."

Roman coughed, amused at Mox's bluntness.

"Yes, well…that's most generous of you," Regal nodded. "I'm also going to take steps to make sure our next receptionist doesn't have access to such information." He stood and held out his hand to Mox. "Again, I apologize."

Mox stood and shook his hand. Then waited as Roman and Regal shook hands.

Regal escorted them out then sighed again. Now to call Alexa. That young lady wasn't going to be happy about what had occurred, but he wanted to be sure she was fully informed before her date with Moxley.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Mox casually glanced around as they exited Roman's SUV. He saw Jimmy park a short distance away.

"Looks like Seth's already inside," Roman nodded towards the front window.

Mox nodded. "Roman, you still got someone watching over me when I go out?"

Roman paused and nodded. "Yeah. Is that a problem? I still think…"

"No, I understand why." Mox rubbed the back of his neck. "Just…might get a little…awkward." He inwardly signed as Roman patiently waited. "I got a date tonight."

"A date?" Roman's grey eyes widened in surprise. "Okay…I mean that's great!"

"It's just dinner," Mox grunted. "Nothing fancy. Real casual."

"I'll make sure whoever's got protection duty keeps it low-key," Roman promised. They began walking towards the Study Hall. "So…who is she?"

"Alexa Bliss." Mox opened the front door before Roman could reply. As he walked into the building ahead of Roman, he didn't see the wide grin on his brother's face.

Seth looked up from where he was sitting behind a counter serving as a reception desk. He quickly got to his feet with a smile. "Glad you could make it!" he greeted. He pulled coffee cups from a carryall. "You'll have to let me know what you think about the coffee. The Deli just got the coffee machine installed. And I didn't know how you like your coffee so I brought cream and sugar."

"Thanks, Seth," Roman smiled as he took one of the cups and opened the lid. He opened a sugar packet and put in a tiny bit of sugar. "This is Jon Moxley."

"Black's fine with me," Mox said. "Nice to meet you."

Seth paused. "I remember you. From high school." He saw Mox hesitate then exchange a look with Roman who casually walked away.

"That was a long time ago," Mox said, sipping the coffee. "Pretty good," he added.

"I never thanked you," Seth said, ignoring Mox's attempt to change the subject. "I should've. But…" he glanced to the floor. "Things with my Uncle were…strange at times."

Mox shrugged. "Gallows and Anderson weren't as tough as they thought they were. No big deal."

"It was to me," Seth firmly replied. "When you and Roman showed up at the bookstore to study, all I could do was make sure you had tutors if you needed them and whatever books would help you. And I wanted to say thank you for what you did, but…but I really didn't want Uncle John to know what was going on. He would've stormed down to the high school and…well, that would just have made things worse."

Mox nodded with a slight grin. "Roman's mother came to middle school one time. Raised holy hell because some teacher told Roman he couldn't share his lunch with me. She got reprimanded by the principal and then made my life a living hell until I got out of there."

"And I know we're not supposed to talk about what happened recently, but thank you for saving me again," Seth quietly spoke.

Mox finally stared at Seth. "You need to know the cops are still going to be on my back," he warned. "That broadcast of Barrett's last night isn't going to help. I guess you saw it." When Seth nodded, he stepped closer. "So why do you still want me doing this work? You gotta know people are gonna try to throw dirt on you because of me."

"Let them," Seth firmly answered, meeting Mox's eyes. "I'm not doing this out of some sense of obligation for what's happened in the past. I want you on this project because I know the quality of your work. If Ben Dawson taught you half of what he knew, then I'll have great furniture in here and not junk."

"And that'll make a difference?" Mox smirked.

Seth returned the smirk. "When you studying in the bookstore, how did you treat the tables and chairs? Did you slam your books down and put your feet on the table? Did you bang the heels of your boots against the chair legs?"

Mox grinned. "Your Uncle would've thrown my ass out if I had done any of that. But I get what you're saying." He set the coffee cup on the counter. "Show me around."

Seth grinned and walked both men through the building. Each subject would have its own classroom with no more than six students at a time.

"A desk for the instructor and two long tables for the students," Seth eagerly explained. "Oh, and with chairs."

Mox looked up from where he was scribbling in a small notebook. "No kidding, Rollins. I thought they'd be standing while they studied. You're gonna spoil those kids."

Roman choked back a snort when Seth chuckled. "Don't mind me. I'll just want out front."

He leaned against the wall and checked his phone while waiting. He glanced at the counter, hoping there was more coffee. It actually was pretty good. But Seth had only brought three cups. Mox's cup, however, was still sitting on the counter. Roman grabbed it and added a little sugar. It would be cold by the time Mox returned. No need to waste good coffee.

He'd just put the empty cup back onto the counter when he heard Mox and Seth's voices as they approached the front room.

"I've got an extra set of blueprints that you can have," Seth was saying.

Mox nodded. "Good. That'll save me having to measure all the rooms. What kind of wood and stain are you wanting?"

"Umm…whatever's in the bookstore?"

Mox shoved the small notebook in to the back pocket of his jeans. "Let's go look. I'll know what it is when I see it."

Roman proudly smiled and pushed himself away from the wall. "Coffee's really good, Seth."

Mox glanced at the counter, eyes narrowing when he realized all the cups were empty.

Seth grabbed the carryall and put all the cups into it. "Thanks. I'll let the guys in the Deli know."

"When is it opening?" Roman curiously asked as he took the carryall from Seth so he could lock the door.

"The Deli should open next week," Seth explained. "The Study Hall in a couple of weeks. Uncle John had ordered some prefab type of furniture that we can use for now. I also had the front windows of the Deli replaced and these should be replaced next week." He glanced at Mox. "I had a recommendation for that."

Mox nodded. "I'll get you a quote with pricing and delivery as soon as I can. I gotta set up business arrangements with some vendors."

Seth nodded as he pocketed the keys. "No problem. I'm willing to wait."

Seth led the way into the bookstore and waved at Finn. "Everything okay?"

Finn nodded with a wide grin. "Look at what we got!" He held up a book from a stack sitting on the counter. "Advance copy of R. S. Gyxx's next book!"

Seth took the book, noting the brightly colored cover. A young man stood on a rocky outcrop, his hair blown back by the wind. A red and gold dragon loomed behind him with a small child curled around one of the dragon's legs. "Nice," he commented. "How many copies did we get?"

"Six," Finn chuckled. "Usually your Uncle would only get four." He hesitated. "Both Xavier and I are fans so he'd give us each one."

Seth grinned and handed the book back to Finn. "Tell Xavier his copy is behind the counter." He walked around the put two copies behind the counter. "My old landlord has grandchildren who are fans so I'll send him one."

"Thanks!" Finn put another copy on a stand next to a sign that read 'pre-order now'.

"Put me down to pre-order one," Roman requested. "My daughter loves these books."

"Little Princess reads them?" Mox asked, eyeing the book cover.

"Bedtime story," Roman chuckled. "Edited for young ears."

"Here." Seth handed Roman a copy. "We only need one to promote the pre-order sales. I'll guess I'll read the other one."

Roman slowly glanced at Mox.

Mox's blue eyes widened slightly as he remembered Roman's words. _"Wonder what he's writing now?"_

"Thanks, Seth. I appreciate it," Roman said.

"Let me grab those blueprints." Seth headed down the hallway to the office. "Go ahead and look at the tables. Remember where the study area is?"

Mox grinned. "Oh, yeah. I remember."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

That evening, Mox waved at Roman as he walked towards the back of the house towards the garage. He stopped when he heard someone wolf whistle. Curious, he glanced into the kitchen and saw Naomi leaning against the island, grinning at him. "Looking sharp," she nodded. "Hot date?"

Mox glared at Roman who raised both hands in silent defense then went back to slicing a cucumber. "Didn't say a word."

"Roman didn't have to," Naomi stepped towards Mox. "Clean **and** pressed jeans. Pressed white shirt too." She glanced down at his feet. "Boots all nice and shiny." Then she leaned closer and sniffed. "And just a hint of cologne." She solemnly nodded. "Yep, hot date."

"It's not a hot date," Mox groaned. "Just a casual date."

Naomi hummed in amusement. She reached out and undid the top two buttons of Mox's shirt. "**Now** it's casual."

Mox looked at Roman who was trying hard not to laugh. "Okay, I'm outta here before anybody else comments." He spun around and walked towards the back door.

"Have fun," Roman called after him. He didn't have to look to know Mox had flipped him the bird.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Precisely at seven, Mox parked across the street from Alexa's apartment building. He quickly crossed the street then pressed the intercom button.

"Security."

"Uh…yeah, I'm here to pick up Alexa Bliss. Jon Moxley."

"One moment."

Mox absently swayed from side to side for a few seconds. Then he heard a crackle from the intercom.

"Mox? Are you downstairs?"

Mox grinned at hearing Alexa's voice. "Yeah, right outside."

"I'll be right down."

Mox silently gave Alexa props for choosing a building with decent security. A few minutes later, Alexa came out of the building and smiled at him.

Mox hesitated, unsure of how to greet her. Was a hug appropriate at this point? Would she be upset if he didn't hug her?

Alexa solved his problem by impulsively hugging him. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving!"

Mox grinned as he held her hand and got them across the street and into the SUV. He didn't see Alexa's slight frown as he pulled the vehicle away from the curb or that she kept watching the side mirror. Finally, she spoke. "Mox, I think someone's following us."

Mox's blue eyes flickered to the rearview mirror. He spotted Ali and Ricochet two cars back. "What makes you think so?"

"There were two guys in a car parked a short distance behind where you were parked," Alexa explained, her eyes still on the side mirror. "One of them was looking at you. Then they pulled out right after us and have been following since we left my place. They're in a dark grey Ford sedan. Nice-looking one, too."

Mox snickered under his breath. When Alexa looked at him in surprise, he grinned. "This is gonna be fun." He activated the phone control on the steering wheel. "Call Ali." Alexa heard a phone ringing over the speakers and a young man answer, "Hello."

"You guys got busted by a very keen-eyed young lady," Mox chuckled. "Two suspicious characters driving a nice-looking dark grey Ford sedan." He heard Ricochet groan, then Ali laughed.

"You're not going to rat us out, are you?" Ricochet pleaded. "Especially to the twins?"

"Depends on if we come to an equitable agreement." Mox winked at Alexa who'd started to grin. He heard Ali sigh.

"What do you want?"

"We're going to Sane's Sports Center," Mox explained. "Back off a little, okay? If we decide to go somewhere else, I'll let you know."

"Roman's gonna kill us," Ricochet muttered just loud enough to be heard.

"Deal," Ali quickly agreed. He hung up before Mox could put any additional conditions on their deal.

"Mr. Reigns has them following you?" Alexa asked with wide eyes.

Mox chuckled then nodded. "He wants somebody watching me who can corroborate any alibi I might need. As long as those murders are unsolved, I'm in their sights." He glanced at Alexa. "I guess I should've told you."

Alexa shook her head, hearing the hesitation in his voice. "No, I understand. It's not a problem. Mr. Reigns has a good point." She paused, then continued. "And I should tell you something as well." She saw Mox's shoulders tighten. "Since we're dating, I can't be your attorney."

"Why not?" Mox asked, clearly surprised.

Alexa sighed. "The Iowa Bar prohibits an attorney from representing a client if they're having a personal relationship. I mean, beyond that of friendship. Since we're dating which implies a potential sexual relationship…" She glanced at Mox who was coughing. "Then it's best to err on the side of caution and step away as your attorney. But if you'd prefer I remain as your attorney, then we don't have…"

"No!" Mox interrupted. "I mean.." He took a deep breath.

Alexa nodded. "I'd like to see where this goes as well. So, Mr. Regal will be your attorney of record for now." She glanced at him. "I'm sorry."

"I should be the one who's sorry," Mox admitted. Then he grinned. "But I'm glad you made this decision." He paused, then continued, "I guess we should get everything on the table. Did Regal call you today?"

Alexa grimly nodded. "I can't believe she sat there are innocent looking while I was talking with that slimebag Barrett. Then turned around and told him about your building." She snorted. "Liv Morgan considered herself God's Greatest Gift to men. I think Mr. Regal was the only man in the office immune to her so-called charms. There wasn't a woman in that office who wouldn't have cheerfully kicked her down the stairs."

Mox chuckled. "To be honest, I couldn't tell you what she looked like."

Alexa stared at him then nodded in silent satisfaction.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Samoa Joe smiled as he paused inside the door of Sane's Sports Center. He spotted Lin's granddaughter, Kairi, behind the counter. The young woman watched him approach with a wary smile.

"Hello, Kairi," Joe genially smiled. "How are things with you?"

"Pretty good," Kairi admitted. "Classes are hard but…" She shrugged. "My grandmother is in the office speaking with one of the vendors."

"How is your grandfather?" Joe gently asked.

"He's no better," Kairi bitterly replied. "He will never be any better. No matter what my grandmother thinks."

"Your grandmother thinks of her husband with her heart. With love," Joe kindly said.

Kairi looked at him with narrowed eyes. "My grandmother told you about that man. Mizanin." When Joe nodded, she leaned closer and hissed, "And then he died." When Joe started to speak, she held up her hand. "I'm not a fool."

"I never thought you were," Joe quietly answered. "Yes, your grandmother told me about him. I told her I would have a conversation with him. But I didn't kill him and no one that I know killed him." He almost smiled at the sarcastic look she threw at him. "I would never lie to you, Kairi. I might not answer a question, but I would not lie. His murder is not because of me or my associates."

Kairi stared at him for a few moments then curtly nodded. "My grandmother should be out shortly."

"I didn't stop by to talk with her although I would have if she'd been out here," Joe admitted. "I was in the neighborhood and stopped by to get a couple of hot dogs to go."

Kairi nodded and quickly fixed his food. She attempted to wave away his money.

"I insist," Joe said, placing a twenty on the counter. "Accepting food as a gift from your grandmother is one thing. You and I aren't at that point yet." He smiled and stepped away. "Put the change in the tip jar." He nodded to her and walked out.

As Kairi put the money into the tip jar, she watched him walk away. _'Yet?'_

In the parking lot, Joe settled into his car and started eating his hot dogs. He'd almost finished the second when he saw a familiar SUV drive into the parking lot and pull into a spot close to the door. He watched as Mox got out of the vehicle and walked around to open the passenger door. He began chuckling when Alexa Bliss got out and the two of them entered Sane's Sports Center.

"Well, well, well…what do you know?" Joe grinning, wondering how he much he could tease Mox before Roman interfered…or Mox blew up. Then he saw a familiar grey Ford pull into a parking spot close to his. He waited but no one got out. Curious, he got out of his SUV and walked over to see Ricochet and Ali in the car. Ali grinned as Ricochet waved from the driver's seat, cellphone held to his ear. He walked to the passenger side as Ali rolled down the window.

"We got spotted by Mox's date," Ali grumbled. "Mox promised not to tell the twins if we backed off a little while he's with his date."

Ricochet finished his call and glanced at Joe who looked amused. "Got a couple of guys coming. They'll go in and keep an eye on Mox and his lady. Mox has never seen them so he won't know they're there." He took a closer look at Joe and sighed. "We'll tell Roman about this. So there's really no need for you to tell the twins."

Joe paused, then spoke. "You know. I've a hankering for the lamb dish you prepared not long ago, Ali. You plan on making it again?"

"I guess I am now," Ali grumbled.

Joe looked past him to Ricochet. "And that marshmellow fruit salad was certainly tasty."

Ricochet nodded and waved a hand at him. "Done."

Joe smiled and nodded. "See you later, gentlemen. Enjoy your evening."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Two hot dogs. Nachos. Half of his French fries. All washed down with a soda. For a small woman, Alexa certainly packed away the food. She also decisively beat him at miniature golf. He got revenge at the batting cages. And she got her revenge at SkeeBall. By the end of the evening, Mox was more relaxed than he could ever remember. And he'd laughed more than he had in years.

As they were leaving Sane's Sports Center, he called Ali. "I'm taking her home."

"We'll be a discrete distance," Ali promised.

Mox groaned and disconnected the call. He shoved the phone in his back pocket and unlocked the SUV door for Alexa.

Ricochet called his people in the Sports Center. "Wait five minutes then you guys are off the clock."

"I had so much fun," Alexa said as Mox drove her home. "We'll have to do that again."

"Yeah," Mox nodded. He felt his body tensing up and a feeling of sadness. "I had a lot of fun, too."

"I'm gonna have to really exercise hard tomorrow to work off those calories, but…" Alexa shrugged. "Sometimes you just gotta indulge, you know."

"Sure do," Mox absently agreed. He stayed mostly silent until he parked across the street from Alexa's building. He turned off the engine then gripped the steering wheel hard.

"Mox?"

He heard Alexa's soft voice and shook his head. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. Then he heard Alexa unlocking her seat belt and felt her slide closer to him. To his horror, he felt her fingers wipe tears from his face.

"It's okay," Alexa murmured as she slid her arms around his shoulders. She gently put her head on his shoulder and continued, "Whatever it is."

Mox took several deep breaths. "When I first got to prison, I'd dream of this. Taking someone out on a date. Having fun. Sometimes to a ball game. Sometimes to the movies. Or whatever. Then I'd wake up in that prison cell and realize that was going to be my life until the day I died. And it would **hurt…so much**. So, I stopped dreaming. I think I would've gone insane if I hadn't stopped dreaming."

Mox opened his eyes and barely kissed the top of Alexa's head. "Then tonight was so much damn fun. Like the past five years of my life never happened." He glanced across the street at Alexa's apartment building. "And now, the date's over; and it's like I'm waking up in prison again. The dream's over."

"No, it's not," Alexa firmly answered, looking up at her. "I told you. I want to see where this relationship goes. And I hope you want that, too."

Mox looked down into her eyes. "I want that," he promised. "But I come with a lot of baggage, sweetheart."

Alexa sadly smiled. "So do I," she admitted. "Tonight was one night I didn't care how much I ate or what I ate." She took a deep breath. "My mother was obsessed with being thin. She couldn't tolerate any of her children not being thin. She and my sisters were tall and elegant. Then there was me…the short one. And the second I hit puberty, I started putting on weight. So, I started making myself throw up. And not eating until I was so hungry that I'd binge. And the cycle would continue. My high school guidance counselor got me into therapy, and I managed to break the cycle. But I still find myself being critical of what I eat. Except for tonight. I was having so much fun, I didn't care." She suddenly grinned. "Even though I'll be at the gym longer tomorrow than usual."

"Takes a strong person to break that kind of abusive cycle," Mox quietly spoke. "I may not have the right to say it, but I'm proud of you."

Alexa took a deep breath. "That means a lot." She leaned forward and gently kissed him on the cheek. "Walk me to the door?"

Mox silently nodded and got out of the SUV. He held Alexa's hand as they slowly crossed the street. At the door, they hesitated.

"Would you like to go to the movies and dinner next Friday?" Mox hesitantly asked. "I know it's probably hard for you to go out during the week what with your work and all. And I gotta get things rolling on my business. If Friday's not good then…"

Alexa put her fingers against his lips. "Friday is great. If something comes up, we'll go on Saturday."

Mox grinned. When she moved her fingers, he added, "You pick the movie."

"Might be a chick flick," Alexa warned with a laugh.

"I don't care. I haven't seen a movie in years."

"Text me when you get home," Alexa said. "I know you've got an escort of sorts but…"

Mox nodded. "And you text me when you're in your apartment. I know this is a secured building but…"

Alexa grinned. "Deal."

Mox watched as she keyed herself into the building. He waved when she turned and waved to him. Then he turned and walked back to the SUV, taking deep breaths. For the first time in a long time, he felt no fear as he moved into deep waters.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Roman looked up as Aleister joined him in the library. He silently motioned for Aleister to join him on the couch.

"The target is scheduled to be transported across the river for a court appearance," Aleister quietly spoke. "As usual, he will be accompanied by two guards who are paid by him to do him favors and look the other way when required. My sources tell me that an unusual route from the prison to a safehouse is planned because of concerns that he might be prevented from testifying."

Roman nodded. "The date is confirmed?"

Aleister nodded and patiently waited for what he knew was coming.

Roman silently recalled the information that Aleister had provided. All the instances where Mox had been assaulted. All the times he'd been in the prison infirmary. He knew his brother was a stubborn man and wouldn't have backed down. Five years of near constant warfare to just stay alive. "Select a team," Roman finally spoke. "I'll lead it."

"No, you won't."

Roman glared at Aleister.

"You want vengeance. I understand and agree," Aleister calmly nodded. "But if something should go wrong, and there's a chance that it will, you cannot be involved."

"It's about family," Roman snarled.

"Yes, it is," Aleister softly spoke. "But your family is more than Mox. It's also your wife. Your daughter. The people here. All the people of the Bloodline who depend on you." He paused. "This is one of those decisions you told me to challenge. Your decision to be there is being made on emotion."

Angrily, Roman stood and walked to stare out the window into the darkness. "Who is he testifying against?"

Aleister coldly smiled. "A member of the Authority. Mid-level. They've made a deal with him so his testimony will be flawed."

Roman was silent for several minutes. Then he quietly spoke. "I want him to suffer every injury that Mox suffered. The two guards are to be eliminated quickly. But he is to suffer. Leave evidence that will lead to the Authority."

"I'll see to it personally," Aleister promised as he got to his feet. He was almost to the door when Roman spoke again.

"Thank you, Aleister."

Aleister silently nodded to Roman even though Roman wasn't looking at him.

'_It will have to be enough,'_ Roman silently told himself. But deep in his heart, he knew it wasn't.


	24. Chapter 24

Moxley carried the wrapped Christmas present into the library and carefully placed it under the Christmas tree. For some reason, there were two trees in Roman's house. One in the living room and one in the library. Roman had shrugged and said he liked both of them equally so why not put both up?

The one in the library was the Secret Santa tree. Mox had drawn Jericho's name and floundered for a gift. Thankfully, Naomi had come to his rescue. Jericho was into old-school vinyl albums. He found one in a local retro record store by Jericho's favorite band, Fozzy. When Mox admitted he'd never heard of them, the clerk had let him listen to the CD of the album he was buying.

Mox didn't know who the lead singer was, but he sure wasn't any Johnny Cash.

A lot of people were flying back to their families in Florida for the holiday. Jericho, Jimmy, Jey, Naomi, and Ali had been taken to the airport by Roman. His cousin Dwayne had sent a private jet for them. Aleister and Zelina had decided to stay in Davenport and spend some 'quality time' together. Aleister's stern expression had kept anyone from commenting on that.

Ricochet and Joe had their own plans although Mox had overheard something about some sort of fruit salad that had Ricochet sighing. They left to go shopping, Ricochet grumbling about grocery stores being crowded this close to Christmas.

He heard the front door open and Roman call out, "Anybody here?"

"Yeah," Mox yelled back. He walked into the hallway and turned towards the front door. Then he stopped in astonishment.

"**Uncle Jon!"**

Stunned, Mox fell to his knees, holding his arms out as Roman's daughter ran towards him. He barely had time to brace himself before she slammed into him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Mommy and Daddy said I'd have a surprise when we got here, but they didn't say it was you!" The Little Princess began kissing his cheek.

Mox wrapped his arms around the little girl and stood. "You've grown," he whispered.

"Yep! Every year! I missed you!"

Mox chuckled. "I missed you, too." He kissed her forehead and balanced her on his hip. "How did you know it was me if your Mommy and Daddy didn't tell you I was here?"

The Little Princess gave him a wide grin. "Because I have a picture of you and Daddy and me when I was a baby. It's on my dresser so I see it every day!"

Mox hugged her again, aware of Roman and Galina approaching. "Gotta give your Mom a hug," he whispered as he put the child down.

Galina swept him into her arms for a hug. "We told her that you had to go away for a long time, but that you'd be back some day."

Mox caught his breath and nodded.

"Was I a surprise for you?"

"Sure was," Mox grinned down at Roman's daughter. "Best surprise ever." Then his eyes widened. "Uh…I gotta go…do some things."

"But we just got here!" The child's protest was accompanied by a pout. An adorable one, Mox silently admitted, but a pout nonetheless.

"Yeah…" Mox began edging away. "But…uh…yeah do some things. I'll be back for dinner."

Roman choked back a laugh as Mox almost ran down the hallway. He patted his daughter's shoulder. "Don't worry. He'll be back."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Mox slid to a halt outside the room Jericho and Aleister shared as an office. He saw Aleister sitting behind one of the desks. He looked up, then closed a folder.

"Thank God," Mox muttered, walking into the office. "Where's Zelina? I really need her."

Aleister stared at him for a few seconds. "You need my wife?"

"Yeah. Really bad." Then Mox saw the cold look in Alester's eyes and held up both hands. "Whoa! Not like that! Are you nuts? She's your **wife**!"

"Yes, she is. Which is why I ask again. You need my wife?"

"To help me do some shopping," Mox quickly explained. "Roman's here with Galina and Little Princess. I don't have anything for them!" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Roman's easy to buy for. But I need help…" He closed his eyes for a few seconds. "And I need help finding a gift for…Look, where's Zelina?"

"I last saw her downstairs in the gym," Aleister answered. "I'm sure she'd be happy to go shopping with you."

"Thanks, man." Mox spun around and ran back down the hallway.

Roman was leading his wife and daughter up the stairs when he heard Mox pounding down the stairs to the gym.

"Daddy, what wrong with Uncle Jon?"

"I'm not sure, but I think maybe he forgot to send his list to Santa," Galina quickly answered.

"Oh…he could email it."

"Yeah, but this is more fun," Roman chuckled.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Zelina was slowly walking on the treadmill, and Mox hoped she was in the cool down phase of her workout. "Thank God you're here. I need help."

Zelina stopped the treadmill and wiped her face with the towel around her neck. She turned to stare at Mox in speculation. "With what?" she finally asked.

"Roman's wife and daughter are here," he began.

Zelina nodded. "He wanted it to be a surprise for you."

"Yeah, well, I don't have any Christmas presents for them," Mox complained. "And I don't have the faintest idea of what to get them. So I need your help."

"Okay, shouldn't be hard to find something," Zelina nodded. "Gonna have to battle crowds, though."

Mox waved a hand. "I'll behave," he promised. "Uh…and maybe you could help me pick out a gift for someone?"

"Secret Santa?" Zelina asked as she walked towards the stairs.

"Uh…not really."

Zelina smiled to herself. "Give me a half hour."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Okay, that takes care of Roman, Galina and Little Princess," Mox happily smiled as he stared down at the shopping bags.

"Is that it? Didn't you have someone else to buy for?"

Mox glanced at Zelina, noticing her innocent expression. "Yes," he sighed. "I…uh…I want to buy a gift for this young lady I'm seeing."

Zelina's dark eyes widened in surprise then patted his arm. "What did you have in mind?"

"I dunno," Mox groaned.

"What's her favorite color?"

"I dunno."

"Well, what type of music does she like?"

"I dunno."

Zelina gave him a look of exasperation. "What **do** you know?"

"Her perfume smells nice," Mox faintly smiled.

"What's the name?"

"I dunno." He suddenly grinned. "But her fingernails have been all sorts of colors. Not just…you know the boring pink or red that most women have."

Zelina glanced down at the dark burgundy color on her nails. Then she smiled. "We'll go with that."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Sitting on the floor, Mox happily sighed as he put the last of the wrapped gifts under the Christmas tree that was sitting in the living room. Some had been there when he and Zelina had returned from shopping, but it looked like Santa had made a delivery after the little girl had gone to sleep.

Alexa's wrapped gift was in his closet. A select gift box of nail colors that Zelina helped him pick out from the cosmetics department at Macy's.

Before he could even think of how Aleister might take it, he told Zelina he wanted to buy her something to thank her for her help. She'd laughed and said it wasn't necessary. But if he didn't mind them walking down to Cinnabon, she wouldn't turn down a cinnamon roll and coffee.

"Whoa, looks like Santa's made a second delivery." Roman looked at the extra packages. "A rather large delivery," he smirked.

Mox looked over his shoulder and grinned at Roman. "You should've told me they were coming. Zelina dragged me all over two damn malls."

Roman chuckled and sat down in a chair while Mox leaned back on his arms. "Little Princess gives the orders around here."

Mox chuckled and ruefully nodded. He glanced back at the tree with the twinkling lights. "Thanks for not letting her forget me. I…I didn't expect that." He sighed. "I'd convinced myself I'd never have this again."

"Enough, Jon," Roman softly ordered. "This is the first Christmas in years that things are good."

"Good?" Mox looked over his shoulder at his brother. "Cops have me as a 'person of interest' in a couple of murders. That slimebag Barrett's calling me out on television. I'm starting a business and haven't the faintest idea of what I'm doing. And you say things are **good**?"

Roman nodded with a faint grin. "We're together and healthy. It's been years since I've been able to say that." When Mox slowly nodded in understanding, he continued, "We plan to go out for Christmas dinner tomorrow. Galina swore she wasn't cooking. Joe and Ricochet said they have plans, and I know Aleister and Zelina are taking some time together. What do you think about asking Seth to join us? He probably doesn't have anyone to be with tomorrow."

Mox shrugged. "Fine with me."

"I'll shoot him a text," Roman decided. "He'll see it when he gets up tomorrow." He stood and reached his hand out to his brother.

Mox grabbed Roman's hand and leveraged himself to his feet. Then he wrapped his arms around Roman. "Merry Christmas, brother," he whispered.

Roman hugged him back. "Merry Christmas, brother."


	25. Chapter 25

"I tell you, none of my boys will ever make it as an actor," Styles grinned as he and Cena entered the elevator to take them up to Malenko's office. "They each got the one thing they wanted the most, but you should've seen their faces trying to be happy and say 'thanks' when they also got underwear and socks."

Cena grinned. "I can imagine." He'd been partnered with Styles long enough to be familiar with his children. "Did your little girl do better?"

"My baby's an angel," Styles assured him. "She got the doll she wanted and gave the wife and me kisses and hugs for the underwear and socks."

They stepped off the elevator and proceeded to Malenko's office. His receptionist motioned for them to go in. "Special D.A. Cole has already arrived."

As Malenko waved them to chairs across from his desk, Cole smiled at them from his seat on the small couch.

Cena got to the point. "The FBI lab confirmed the DNA found at the crime scene of Renee Young's murder belongs to Bray Wyatt. Their people will testify in Court when we need them."

"Great," Cole smiled in relief. "Now all we have to do is find Wyatt."

Malenko leaned back in his chair. "That takes Moxley off the suspect list. Let him know that as soon as you can. I'll issue a press release this afternoon." He glanced at Cole who nodded.

"Just let me know when, and we'll do it together." Cole looked at the two detectives. "So far, my people haven't found anything to connect Wyatt and Shairi. However, in canvassing the neighborhood, one person said they saw a man leaving Shairi's house around dawn. She didn't see his face, though. I should have the Coroner's preliminary report this afternoon."

Cena nodded then glanced at Malenko who nodded back in dismissal.

As the two detectives rode the elevator back down, Styles glanced at his partner. "Are we heading out to Reigns' place to find Moxley?"

Cena frowned for a few seconds then shook his head. "Let's confirm that Mizanin's widow left the country like she said she was going to do. And I want to see what our computer search on Io Shairi has come up with."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Roman looked up at the knock on the open door of his office. "Aleister, come in." He leaned back in his chair as Aleister closed the office door. He waved the other man to a chair but Aleister shook his head.

"Everything is in place," Aleister quietly spoke. "However, I must insist on one change."

"What?" Roman slowly asked.

"I understand your desire that he suffer what Mox suffered," Aleister carefully explained. "An autopsy will show the exact damage. An investigation is bound to come up with a list of those who had a reason to want him dead. Anyone not currently incarcerated will go to the top of the suspect list. Even a cursory investigation will show any injuries inflicted upon the suspects by him." He saw Roman slowly nod in understanding. "An exact match to Mox's injuries will make him the primary suspect. And Mox's connection to you will bring unwanted attention on all of us."

Roman realized his hands were clenched into fists and forced them to slowly open. He took several deep breaths before speaking. "Challenging my decision?"

"Yes."

Roman grimaced, but nodded. "Agreed. As long as he suffers. Handle it as you think best."

"He will." Aleister paused, then continued. "Roman, this is the second decision I've had to challenge regarding Mox."

Roman sighed. "And I appreciate it." He met Aleister's cold eyes. "And I understand."

Aleister's eyes softened momentarily, then he silently left the office.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Mox arrived at his building a little early before his meeting with the others. He silently walked through the building, memories of learning the trade flashing through his mind. He was surprised to remember where each piece of machinery and work stations had been placed. He made a mental note to take pictures when they were ready to open for business and send them to Ben.

He was pretty sure Roman had Ben's address.

He was startled when his cell phone dinged to let him know he had a message. He pulled it out of his back pocket and read, _'We're here.'_ He shoved the phone back into his pocket, cursing under his breath as he trotted through the building to the front door.

As he unlocked the door and opened it, Mox apologized, "Sorry. Time really got away from me." He locked the door behind them.

Ryder grinned. "No problem. Uh…this is the person I spoke to you about. Nikki Cross."

Nikki thrust her hand towards Mox, who automatically took it. Nikki shook his hand. "Glad to meet you. Here's my resume." She handed the paper to Mox with her other hand. Then she curiously looked around.

Mox raised his eyebrows at Ryder who shrugged with a grin. Kendrick was trying not to laugh.

"Nice lobby," Nikki commented. "Open. Lots of natural light. Needs paint and new carpeting though."

"Uh, yeah," Mox nodded. "On the to-do list."

"Paint first. Then carpeting." Nikki's head was turning first in one direction then another. "Small table. Couple of chairs to make people comfortable while waiting to see you."

"Uh, guys, why don't you check out the rest of the building while we talk?" Mox suggested.

"Sure thing," Kendrick agreed, blue eyes twinkling.

Mox scanned the resume. "You know how to run accounting software?"

"Sure. Accounts payable and receivable, invoicing, payroll, taxes," Nikki nodded. "Also ordered supplies and set up inventory control at my last job."

"Ryder mentioned you left your last job," Mox began.

Nikki nodded as she interrupted. "We should get this straight right off the bat. I'll run this office and run it efficiently. No short-cuts. But I'm not covering for you while you bang some bimbo and lie to your wife about where you are or what you're doing."

"Uh…I'm not married," Mox began.

"And this is purely a business relationship. Professional. I'm not secretly pining for you and sure don't think you're the best thing to ever happen to me."

"Never crossed my mind. Purely professional and businesslike," Mox promised, trying not to smile.

"Good. Then we'll get along famously," Nikki firmly nodded.

"That what your last boss did?" Mox asked.

"Bloody wanker," Nikki muttered under her breath. "Thinking he could cozen me into lying for him. All the while he's banging that bimbo in HR."

"You're hired."

Nikki blinked a couple of times. "I am?"

Mox nodded with a grin. "You are." He pointed to three boxes sitting in one corner. "Those are business records from the previous owner. They might help in setting things up."

Like a child at Christmas, Nikki ran to the corner and fell to her knees. She opened one of the boxes and immediately began pulling out files. "Vendor records! Invoices!" She sat cross-legged next to the box and began flipping through one of the files.

"Okay, I'll let you get to it then," Mox said. "I'll go catch up with the guys."

Nikki hummed in absent agreement her attention focused on the files.

Mox found Ryder and Kendrick in the work room. Ryder grinned when he saw Mox's expression.

"Tell me," Mox drawled. "When she left her last job, did she punch that SOB?"

Ryder laughed. "No, but from the way she was ranting about him a couple of hours later, she probably blistered his hide with what she was called him before she left."

"She's hired," Mox said. "I like her style."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Cena and Styles walked to the entrance of the building that Moxley had purchased. A phone call to the courthouse had provided them with the address.

"Not sure, but I think this is where Moxley was working when he was arrested," Cena murmured.

"Huh," Styles grunted. He glanced through the glass window and spotted a young woman sitting on the floor with stacks of files around her. He held up his badge and knocked on the window.

Startled, Nikki looked up. Then she turned her head and screamed, "**BOSS!**"

The men were in what was going to be the breakroom when they heard Nikki's scream. Mox sprinted ahead of the other two and burst into the lobby to see Nikki staring at the front door.

"Are you okay?" Ryder asked his friend.

Mox turned to see Cena and Styles at the door. "Cops," he muttered. He took a deep breath and walked towards the door. "And, Nikki, don't call me 'boss'."

Kendrick smothered a grin when he saw Nikki shrug.

Mox unlocked the door and opened it. "What do you want?"

Styles curiously looked at the people behind Mox. The other two men had taken a couple of steps towards the door in silent support of Mox. The woman had gotten to her feet, crossed her arms across her chest, and was scowling at them.

"Mr. Moxley, sorry to disturb you," Cena politely answered. "But we thought you should know before the news breaks. The FBI has confirmed the DNA at the scene of Renee Young's murder isn't yours. A new suspect has been identified."

Mox stared at the two detectives for a few seconds, then silently nodded. "Thanks for letting me know." He paused, then continued, "Anything else?"

"That's all," Cena assured him.

"For now," Styles added.

Mox shut the door and locked it before watching the two detectives walk away.

"Bloody idiots," Nikki grumbled. Then she grinned as Mox turned around. "C'mon. Sit down. All of you. I've been going over these records and making lists of what we need to be doing." She sat cross-legged and patted the floor next to her. "C'mon, we don't have all day."

Mox chuckled under his breath and walked across the lobby to join her. "Okay, Nikki. What do you have?"

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Malenko looked up as Cole dropped a file on his desk. "Coroner's report on Io Shairi. No drugs in her system. No signs of violence or assault on her body. GSR test was positive. Official cause of death is suicide due to a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the right side of her head." He sat down in a chair across the desk from the Chief of Police.

Malenko rapidly read the report then closed the file with a sigh. "Guess we'll never know what she meant in that letter."

Cole slowly nodded. "Handwriting analysis confirms Shairi wrote the suicide letter." He rubbed his eyes. "Her memorial service is tomorrow. I'm not telling her family about this now. I'll wait a couple of days. Her cousins were positive she'd never commit suicide."

"Are **you** positive?"

Cole stared across the desk at Malenko. "No. My gut tells me this was murder. But I've got nothing to prove it."

Malenko nodded in silent agreement.


	26. Chapter 26

Dash Wilder grinned at his partner who was driving the prison van. "This is gonna be a fun trip," he chuckled.

Scott Dawson nodded. "Road trips with him are always fun. Just hate driving these back roads."

Wilder shrugged. "This is the route we were told to take. Apparently, that D.A. in Moline is worried the Authority's gonna try and take him out before he can testify."

Dawson laughed. "Joke's on him. Dumb D.A. is gonna look like an idiot when he blows that case out of the water."

Inside the prison van, Brock Lesnar heard the two guards laughing and smirked. It had been almost childishly easy to get them on his side. Money wasn't the only means of gaining allies in prison. Access to women. Drugs. The aura of power. In return for these things, they looked the other way when Lesnar had to discipline someone and sometimes even helped. Lesnar ruled the prison population, and everyone knew it.

Lesnar leaned against the wall of the prison van and chuckled. At least two nights with all the food, booze and women that he wanted. The Authority would see that he was well supplied. The stupid D.A. in Moline had no idea how well the Authority had infiltrated his office.

Lesnar was jolted out of his pleasant contemplation of the next two days by an explosion that sent the prison van upward then rolling in mid-air to the left. Flying across the van, Lesnar cried out in pain when the van landed hard on the pavement. He vaguely heard both Dawson and Wilder scream as the van bounced and skidded off the road.

Dawson dazedly looked at his partner, inwardly cursing the man for not wearing a seatbelt. His head had obviously cracked the windshield and was a bloody mess. He blinked as the passenger's side door was opened. A tall muscular man with long black hair reached in and checked Wilder's pulse.

The man chuckled in amusement. "You should always wear your seatbelt. Safety first, you know." He looked past Dawson who had just realized the door on his side of the van had been opened.

'_Gloves. They're wearing gloves. Won't be fingerprints.'_

An even taller man, this one broadly built with short red hair, stood staring down at him in bemusement. "Don't think the seatbelt is going to help this one." He quickly grabbed Dawson's head and rammed it into the steering wheel with a great deal of power.

Dawson was barely conscious the second time it happened.

The two men slammed the doors to the van shut and walked to the back of the prison van where a third man waited.

"They're dead," the black-haired man reported.

"Excellent work, Mr. McIntire. Mr. Kane." Aleister Black looked back at the road. "Especially with the demolition work."

Kane shrugged. "Thank Uncle Sam for the training." He and Drew McIntire pulled out their guns and trained them on the back doors of the van.

Aleister drew out a set of keys and unlocked the door. He stood back and nodded to the other two men.

Kane opened one of the doors just wide enough for McIntire to throw something inside. Then he closed the door. Both men held the doors shut as Aleister locked them.

Lesnar took a deep breath to yell at the men he'd just seen. Then he began to cough. He glared at the small flare-like object that had been thrown in to the van. It was spewing out some sort of mist and gas.

"Let me out!" Lesnar yelled. He managed to crawl to the back of the van and began beating on the door. "You know who I am? Let me out of here!"

Kane stared at the locked van doors with amusement. McIntire laughed.

Two minutes later, Lesnar was unconscious.

Aleister waited another two minutes before opening the door again. McIntire and Kane pulled Lesnar from the back of the van while Aleister retrieved the device he'd thrown into the van. Handling it carefully with gloved hands, he sealed it in a large baggie. He then followed Kane and McIntire to where their car was parked across the road. He silently watched as the two men dumped Lesnar into the trunk then got into the back seat of the car.

Thirty seconds later, they were driving away.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

The memorial service for Io Shairi was subdued and respectful. Cole wasn't sure what to expect but the brief service, although conducted in Japanese, seemed almost comforting. Her cousin, Asuka, spoke briefly about her admiration for Io's determination to succeed and her kindness to others. Her cousin, Shinsuke, did not speak.

After the service, Cole stood in line to give his condolences to the two cousins. He'd immediately seen Shinsuke's dark eyes widen when he spotted Cole in the audience. Cole silently rehearsed what he was going to say to them as he idly listened to the man in line ahead of him speak although the conversation was in Japanese.

'_All is prepared. We pray for success.'_

Asuka nodded once in acknowledgement.

The Japanese man bowed low to both Asuka and Shinsuke then turned and walked away.

Cole stepped forward and quietly spoke. "I hope this service brings you both peace. It was very comforting."

Shinsuke said nothing but stared at Cole. Asuka sadly smiled. "Thank you for honoring Io with your presence."

"There are a few more test results that I'm waiting on, but I should have them by late tomorrow," Cole replied. "When you wish to meet, call my office and I'll be available at your convenience."

"If you are sure you will have everything, then the day after tomorrow," Asuka decided. "We…" She glanced at Shinsuke who nodded once then took a deep breath. "We need to know."

"How about 2pm?" Cole suggested.

Asuke nodded in agreement.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Outside the building, the Japanese man who'd been in line ahead of Cole leaned against his car and took out his cell phone. He pressed a button then put the phone to his ear. When the call was answered, he spoke in Japanese.

'_Message delivered and understood.'_

'_Excellent. Proceed as planned.'_

Hideo Itami smiled when the call was ended. The man on the other end of the call wasn't one to waste time idly chatting.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Lesnar came to abruptly when cold water was thrown in his face. Sputtering, he groaned and opened his eyes. It only took a couple of seconds to realize he was hanging from the ceiling courtesy of heavy manacles and chains around each wrist. It only took another couple of seconds to realize his feet weren't touching the floor. He glanced down then up and realized his was chained in an "X" position with his feet a few inches off the floor.

"My apologies for the rude awakening."

Lesnar saw the man calmly sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the room. _'Not good. He doesn't care if I can see him. And those tattoos I can see would make him easily identifiable.'_

"I would've preferred you awaken on your own, but we are a little pressed for time."

"Who are you, motherfucker?" Lesnar demanded. He cried out when something hard struck his kidneys.

"Watch your mouth," someone behind him growled.

"My name is Aleister Black." The man leaned back in his chair. Dressed entirely in black pants and short-sleeved black t-shirt, it was the lack of emotion in the man's blue eyes that caught Lesnar's attention.

Lesnar chuckled. "You've no idea who's toes you're stepping on."

Aleister raised one eyebrow. "Are you referring to yourself, Mr. Lesnar, or to the Authority?" He slightly smiled when Lesnar couldn't conceal his look of surprise. "You, Brock Lesnar, are in no position to be a threat. And, as for the Authority…" he shrugged, completely unconcerned. "They would have to know about me in order to be a threat to me."

"What's all this about then?" Lesnar demanded.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out." Aleister nodded to the men standing behind Lesnar.

Lesnar groaned as something hard struck his left thigh. "Motherfu-"

Kane sighed. "I warned you to watch your mouth." He swung the lead pipe against Lesnar's ribs.

Aleister watched dispassionately as Kane and McIntire took turns breaking Lesnar's bones with lead pipes. After each blow was struck, Aleister calmly said a name.

Broken rib. Moxley.

Broken right foot. Amore.

Busted right kneecap. Neville.

But the name that was spoken the most was Moxley.

"Fuck Moxley," Lesnar snarled, even as he tried to breathe. "What's he paying you for this?"

"Moxley, whoever he is, has nothing to do with this," Aleister assured him. He smiled when Lesnar spat blood onto the floor. "Believe me or not as you wish. It's of no importance to me. But you must know that you've created quite a list of people who want this to happen to you. And I have no reason to lie."

Broken nose. Rawley.

Another broken rib. Ellsworth.

A broken left ankle. Moxley.

Moxley's name still mentioned more than the others. Through a haze of never-ending pain, Lesnar saw Aleister just sitting in the chair. Intoning a name with each blow. Always watching him. Assessing. Coldly calculating when Lesnar would begin to scream. Because they always screamed if you worked them over long enough.

Lesnar knew that for a fact.

Broken left wrist. Neese.

Busted right elbow. Moxley.

Lesnar began screaming. His feet weren't on the floor; and even if they were, the injuries he'd suffered wouldn't permit him to stand. The broken wrist and busted elbow wouldn't allow him to hold himself up so his dead weight dragged on the injured wrist and elbow. The final blow dislocated his right shoulder.

Moxley.

Lesnar couldn't even call it a mercy when, at a signal from Aleister, he was released and fell to the floor.

Aleister calmly stood and slowly walked to where Lesnar lay. He knelt in front of him as Lesnar tried to push himself up by bracing his weight on his one good elbow.

"Jon Moxley didn't send me," Aleister quietly spoke. "His brother did."

As the two other men pulled Lesnar to his knees, Lesnar saw Aleister walk a few steps away. _'Moxley has a bro-'_

Lesnar fell sideways as Aleister's boot crushed his throat. As the three men watched in silence, Lesnar died, drowning in his own blood.

"Ellsworth," Aleister quietly spoke.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Some people would be nervous, if not afraid, to walk through a cemetery at night. Most people would wonder why anyone would even consider doing it.

But Bray Wyatt wasn't most people.

He cheerfully hummed as he made his way past tombstones, barely glancing at them. The lantern he held providing all the illumination that he needed to find the specific grave he was looking for.

Finally, he stopped and stared at the fresh grave. "Oh, Io," Bray murmured, sitting the lantern on the ground. "Have you found the peace you sought? I sincerely hope so. No more trying to live up to the expectations of people who never understood you! No more wallowing in the disappointment of this wicked world!" He smiled almost happily. "Now you have all the peace you ever desired."

Bray looked up as he heard heavy footsteps approaching. Grabbing the lantern, he held it waist-high and peered into the darkness. Then he smiled as he saw who approached. "Brother Strowman! You have returned to us!"

Brawn Stroman stared down at Bray then looked at the grave. "Who?" he asked.

"Sister Io," Bray answered. "You didn't know her. She had such a kind and gentle soul. One that had been bruised by those around her."

"Including you?" Brawn asked, staring at the other man.

Bray's eyes narrowed. He started to fling the lantern into Brawn's face but felt a stinging in his neck.

Hideo thrust the needle into Bray's neck and pushed down on the plunger.

Bray angrily spun around, knocking Hideo to the ground.

Brawn grabbed Bray from behind, wrapping his arms around him.

Hideo jumped to his feet and grabbed the lantern before Bray could swing it at Brawn.

Brawn continued squeezing Bray until the combination of lack of oxygen and the sedative administered by Hideo took effect. Effortlessly, he flipped Bray around and slung him over his shoulder.

Hideo silently led the way, holding the lantern in front of him.

As they walked away, a gentle breeze ruffled the petals of the flowers on Io's grave.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Tired almost beyond belief, Mox started the drive home. Nikki Cross, he decided, was a stern taskmaster. She might give the appearance of being a disorganized mess, but she had a lot of things organized and prioritized as to what needed to be done.

"Damn lists," Mox muttered, then started laughing. He reached out and turned on the radio to the classic country station. He hummed along with Willie Nelson as he tried to figure out if he would go stop at a fast food restaurant and take dinner home or eat whatever leftovers were sure to be found in Roman's refrigerator.

'_Okay, listeners, we have an update on the story we've been following. Prison escapee, Brock Lesnar, is still at large. However, the two guards who were transporting him to Moline have been found. The prison van carrying Lesnar was found wrecked with the two guards unfortunately dead on the scene. Their next of kin have been notified so we can reveal the prison guards were Dash Wilder and Scott Dawson. Law enforcement is refusing to say what wrecked the van, citing the ongoing investigation. Listeners are warned to be cautious. Lesnar is 6'3"…'_

Mox turned the radio off and slammed his hand against the steering wheel. He gunned the engine, needing to get home as quickly as possible.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"**ROMAN! ROMAN!"**

Both Jericho and Samoa Joe glanced at Roman with a mixture of concern and confusion.

"**ROMAN!"**

After a nod from Roman, Jericho stood and walked to the hallway. "In the office," he said, spotting Mox at the other end of the hall. He turned and stepped back into the office. "He looks mad," he warned Roman.

Seconds later, Mox stood in the doorway of Roman's office. He ignored Jericho who stood by the open door and Samoa Joe who silently got to his feet. His eyes were fixed on Roman who calmly returned his gaze.

"What did you do?" Mox almost whispered.

Jericho looked at Samoa Joe who barely shrugged.

Roman slowly got to his feet with an inward sigh. _'This isn't going to be pretty.'_

"Roman? What did you do?" Mox demanded. **"WHAT DID YOU DO?"**


	27. Chapter 27

"Roman? What did you do?" Mox demanded. **"WHAT DID YOU DO?"**

Roman looked at Jericho and Samoa Joe. "We'll continue this later. Please close the door on your way out."

Jericho nodded, but Samoa Joe silently stared at first Moxley then Roman before following Jericho out of the office. He firmly closed the door behind him.

"Roman?"

Roman waved Mox towards one of the chairs but wasn't surprised when Mox remained standing. "Are you going to try and tell me that you wouldn't have done the same if our positions were reversed?"

"That's not the point!" Mox snapped, his fists clenching.

"It's exactly the point!" Roman snapped back. "Isn't that what brothers do? Isn't that what **we** do?" He pointed first to himself and then to Mox.

Mox rubbed his hands over his face.

"I didn't break Lesnar out of jail, if that's what you're worrying about," Roman grumbled.

"What I'm **worried** about is the cops coming after you!" Mox snarled. "Get that through your thick Samoan skull!"

"Why would they come after me?" Roman shot back. "You know damned well you're not the only person Lesnar went after in prison! Hell, he killed two men while in that place! And got away with it!"

"I'm the only one with a tie to you!" Mox yelled. "Someone with the ability and contacts to pull something like this off."

Roman forced himself to take a deep breath and relax. Standing toe-to-toe with Mox only resulted in a violent escalation. "Will you please sit down and listen to me?" he asked in a quieter tone of voice.

Almost petulantly, Mox threw himself into one of the chairs and glared at Roman.

Roman slowly sat down, breathing deeply. "Lesnar was scheduled to testify over in Moline against a member of the Authority. The trial had been delayed for one reason or another for over five years. Mostly because the D.A. didn't feel the case was strong enough. Finally, someone came forward and said Lesnar knew about it. The Moline D.A. made a deal with Lesnar for his testimony. The Authority has someone in the D.A.'s office so the Authority knew about it within a few hours and made an even better deal with Lesnar for him to skewer his testimony in favor of the defendant. Lesnar would be brought to Moline a couple of days before he was scheduled to testify and kept in a safe house. In reality, he'd be able to party for a couple of days." Roman shrugged. "He never made it to the safe house."

"And the two guards?"

Roman raised an eyebrow. "Wilder and Dawson? You're concerned about **them**?"

"Hell, no, they were hand-in-glove with Lesnar," Mox grunted. "Looked the other way when necessary, provided him with an alibi…" He stared at Roman. "That's all going to come out, too, isn't it?"

Roman leaned back in his chair, starting to relax. "Why shouldn't it? They're just as guilty as Lesnar. And the prison authorities couldn't have written off everything Lesnar did as coincidental, so their hands aren't clean of any of this. There's going to be a Federal investigation into what's been going on in that hell hole."

Mox leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. "Jesus Christ, Roman," he mumbled.

After a few seconds, Roman stood and walked to where Mox sat. He knelt in front of his brother and gently touched his knee. "The Moline cops will find forensic evidence tying local members of the Authority to what happened to Lesnar, Wilder, and Dawson," he gently spoke. "Logic says the Authority took out Lesnar to prevent him from testifying. And they probably had a reason to…take their time in doing so. There's no reason for the cops to specifically look at me for a single second." He half-grinned. "It's not like the Authority can alibi themselves by saying they had no reason to eliminate Lesnar because they'd suborned his testimony."

"Except that I've got a connection to Lesnar. A bad one." Mox raised his head and stared into Roman's grey eyes. "And they want to use me to get to you. Take down the Bloodline. Hell, Barrett will probably use my connection with Lesnar in his next broadcast."

Roman smirked. "Like I said, the cops have been trying to do that before either of us were ever born. As for Barrett, if he steps over the line, Regal will take care of him." He stared back at Mox. "And if you can look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing if I'd been in that prison…fighting every day for survival against Lesnar…recovering from broken bones…that **you** wouldn't have gone after Lesnar, then I'll apologize to you and admit I was horribly horribly wrong."

For a few moments, Mox was back in prison…treated like the caged animal he'd become…unable to draw a single deep breath. He blinked several times, then found Roman's eyes. "I'd've done the same damn thing." He leaned forward the rested his forehead on his brother's shoulder. "Thank you, Roman," he whispered.

Roman wrapped his arms around his brother and tightly squeezed. "You're welcome."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Bray Wyatt slowly opened his eyes. He saw a dusty concrete floor and a second later felt it under his cheek. He blinked a few times then slowly began pushing himself into a sitting position. Without moving his head, he used his eyes to scan the immediate area.

He found himself sitting in a pool of light courtesy of an overhead light. As he slowly got to his feet, he realized there was something around his neck. His fingers barely touched it before he received an electrical shock that dropped him to his knees. Doggedly, he shook his head and sought deep breaths. Then he slowly got back to his feet. He peered around but saw only darkness beyond the circle of light that surrounded him.

"Good evening. Allow me to explain."

Wyatt's blue eyes narrowed. The voice was mechanical…artificial. Someone didn't want his voice recognized.

"The collar around your neck is a modified dog collar capable of administering electric shocks. The shock you just received was a two second burst at minimum power. I can increase both the duration and power to an extremely uncomfortable level."

Wyatt slowly turned in the direction of the mechanical voice.

"As your eyesight adjusts, you might see some small pillars. They are creating a barrier to contain you, just like a dog wearing a similar collar is contained within a yard. If you try to pass through that barrier, you'll be shocked. If you knock over one of those barriers in an attempt to escape, remember I hold the controller. And the resulting shock would be extremely painful."

Wyatt slowly smiled. "You must forgive me. We haven't been formally introduced. My name is Bray Wyatt."

"I know who you are."

Wyatt saw someone behind one of the pillars that he assumed was the person speaking to him. But he was aware of soft footsteps behind him and to his left. "Surely all this was unnecessary in order to have a civil conversation," he commented.

"I disagree."

Wyatt comfortably shrugged. "What did you wish to discuss?"

"First, Io Shairi."

"Ah, dear Sister Io," Wyatt sighed. "A lovely woman who was so tragic and full of disappointments. Her family should have been her comfort and support yet abandoned her." He heard a quick footstep behind him and a soft murmur from his left that stopped the person who'd stepped closer to the circle of light. _'Ah, Sister Io's so-called family is here.'_

"Can you explain that?"

Wyatt chuckled. This speaker was good. Assuming a neutral voice, not judging or condemning. Encouraging Wyatt to talk. "Her family is all about appearances. Be a certain type of person even if that's not who you are. Did you know Sister Io never wanted to be a pharmacist? She wanted to be a singer." He ruefully shook his head. "Although her type of music didn't appeal to me, she had a lovely voice. She sang many times for me." He cocked his head to one side. "I wonder if her family ever heard her sing the songs she wanted to sing? I wonder if they ever heard the tortured cries from her soul?"

"Two police officers were murdered by Io Shairi. Why would she do that?"

Wyatt shrugged. "Sister Io would have to answer that. I, in no way, speak for her. Her family did that far too often."

"Did you ask her to do that?"

Wyatt chuckled. "Sister Io knew what those men were. Liars! Deceivers! Part of a system that thrives upon lies and deceit! How could they be properly judged by a system as corrupt as they?"

"And then she died."

Wyatt sighed and lowered his eyes. "Sister Io had such a gentle soul. The deaths of these two reprehensible creatures weighed heavily upon her." He peered over his shoulder searching for whoever stood there in the darkness. "She had purchased a gun a few years ago. Not for personal defense, although that was the reason she gave everyone. But because she thought a great deal about ending her own life. She found out she could not have children. Children of her own to love and cherish. And it grieved her so. Why should I stop her and force her to continue to live in agony?"

"You were there when she committed suicide?"

Wyatt shrugged. "You may call it whatever you wish. Sister Io had no reason to live any longer. She had no worth to her family unless she continued being what they wanted her to be. And she could not be that person any longer. We talked. I smoothed the path for her."

"And you…convinced her that suicide was her only choice."

Wyatt smiled. "You may interpret it that way if you wish. But are you correct?"

There was silence for a few moments.

"What about Renee Young?"

Wyatt threw back his head and laughed. "Ah, Renee Young. Another liar and deceiver." He began pacing back and forth. "She assumed the role of journalist, seeking truth! To bring truth to the people!" He humorously shook his head. "As though the people want the truth." He wagged his finger. "No, no, no…anyone who brings truth becomes the enemy."

"The truth she was going to bring made her your enemy?"

Wyatt chuckled. "There was a time when journalism had men of stature…of character…of honor. Edward R. Murrow. Walter Cronkite. But now? No, this journalistic truth must be delivered by people who are young. And beautiful. And plastic." He paused in consideration. "Now, I did not know the late Ms. Young well enough to know how much of her body was plastic. But she lived and thrived in a plastic world where truths become lies and lies become truths."

He turned in the general direction of the questioning voice. "Do you have a family?"

"Yes, I do."

Wyatt nodded. "Then you know how important family is. This Renee Young, in her deceit in wanting to find out 'truths', upset and scared some members of my family. She lied to them! Deceived them!" He held out his arms to either side of his body and looked upward. "She wrote the truth of her own demise!" He slowly lowered his arms. "For you see, my family means everything to me."

"So you killed Renee Young."

"As I said. She wrote the truth of her own demise." Bray chuckled to himself. "As do we all."

"I believe we're done."

Seconds later the overhead light went out.

Wyatt fell to his knees and extended his arms out to either side of his body. He heard footsteps approaching and closed his eyes.

"Take me home, Abigail," he murmured. "Sister, take me home."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"911. What's your emergency?"

"Look, you gotta send someone over that abandoned warehouse. Corner of River Road and LeClaire Highway. Somebody's in there and screamin'. Like…awful screamin'."

"Okay, units are being dispatched. Are you there now?"

"**NO!** I got outta there. I just wanted some place to sleep, you know? But I wasn't hangin' around. I don't want no part of this."

"Sir, can you…Sir? Sir?"

The 911 dispatcher turned to her supervisor standing at her shoulder. "He hung up." When her supervisor nodded, she radioed the responding units. "All units en route to the corner of River Road and LeClaire Highway. Be advised caller either hung up the phone or was forced to hang up. Caller reported he was not at the site. Be on the lookout for anyone leaving the vicinity. Caution advised."

Five minutes later, one of the responding officers radioed back, "Dispatch, we have a 140 on site. Notify homicide, CSI and the Coroner. Warn them that it's a bad one."


	28. Chapter 28

"Cena!"

Cena turned around, hearing his name being called. He saw Styles walking rapidly across the parking lot towards him, holding a travel mug in each hand. When his partner reached him, he was handed one of the travel mugs.

"Figured you didn't take time to stop for coffee," Styles explained. He saw Cena cautiously stare at the travel mug. "Wife fixed it," he assured the other detective with a grin.

"Thanks." Cena gratefully took a sip as they walked into their precinct. The sun was just barely coming up over the horizon and he desperately needed the caffeine. Plus, Styles' wife made a damn good cup of coffee. And she remembered how he liked it. "And thank Wendy for me."

Styles nodded. "Any idea what this is all about?" he quietly asked as they walked towards the elevators.

Cena shook his head. "All I know is the Chief called and said to get down here immediately and meet him in his conference room."

"Great. Just great," Styles grunted. As the elevator door closed and the car began to rise, he continued, "I hope to hell we're not getting dragged into that escaped convict mess. We've got enough on our plates as it is."

Cena silently nodded.

When they reached the conference room door, they took a look at each other. Both men took a deep breath, then Cena knocked on the door.

"Enter."

Cena opened the door and walked into the room followed by Styles. He nodded at Chief Malenko and Special D.A. Cole. He recognized one of the other men in the office as someone Cole had called in to assist him. _'Strong. Yeah, that's the name.'_

"Thanks for coming in," Malenko nodded as Styles closed the door behind him. "I'd offer you coffee, but I see you brought some."

"Wife wouldn't let me get behind the wheel of the car unless I had some coffee in me," Styles grunted as he slumped into a chair. "Told me to bring some to my partner." He curiously glanced at the other two men in the room.

"This is Detective Bobby Fish and Detective Kyle O'Reilly," Cole introduced. "Guys, Detectives John Cena and A. J. Styles. They've been working with me on the Shairi murder."

The four men nodded silently at each other. Cena noted the exhaustion on their faces and figured they'd been pulled in a lot earlier than he and Styles.

"At 1:07am, a 911 call came in asking for officers to be sent to an abandoned warehouse at the corner of River Road and LeClaire Highway. A man was heard screaming 'awful' as the caller put it. The caller didn't identify himself other than to say he'd been looking for a place to sleep. He hung up before the dispatcher could get any additional information." Malenko took a deep breath. "The responding officers didn't find our anonymous caller, but they found a dead body and a flash drive next to him." He opened a folder and put several crimescene photographs on the table.

Cena and Styles leaned forward to study the pictures.

"Is that…" Styles looked at Malenko.

"Bray Wyatt," Malenko nodded.

"I can see why the caller said he heard awful screaming," Cena muttered. "Cause of death established?"

"Still waiting on it," Malenko answered. "Prelim shows broken ribs punctured both lungs. They were filled with blood."

"Along with other major injuries," O'Reilly spoke up. "Some caused broken bones and others were to cause as much pain as possible. Both shoulders were dislocated. All his fingers were shattered. And there were electrical burns around his neck. The autopsy will give us a detailed list."

"But here's the interesting thing." Despite his weariness, Cole's blue eyes twinkled. "The flash drive." He nodded at Fish. "Bring it up, Bobby."

Fish turned his laptop so everyone could see the screen. "The actual flash drive has been logged into evidence. From what I could determine, there's nothing on it but this video. I downloaded it to the laptop. The flash drive will be examined more closely, and we'll send it off to the FBI for an independent analysis." He pressed a button and the video began to play.

"_Two police officers were murdered by Io Shairi. Why would she do that?"_

_Wyatt shrugged. "Sister Io would have to answer that. I, in no way, speak for her. Her family did that far too often."_

"_Did you ask her to do that?"_

_Wyatt chuckled. "Sister Io knew what those men were. Liars! Deceivers! Part of a system that thrives upon lies and deceit! How could they be properly judged by a system as corrupt as they?"_

"_And then she died."_

Cena held up a hand, and Fish stopped the video. "That one voice is disguised."

Fish nodded. "Electronically altered. Not impossible to identify, but it will be very very hard; and any defense attorney could raise doubt as to the veracity of any identification."

Cena thoughtfully nodded. "He…or she was concerned about being identified. Means it's someone local. An out-of-town hitman wouldn't be so concerned."

"Unless his…or her identity could tie him…or her into other crimes," Styles sing-songed. He mischievously grinned at his partner who ruefully shrugged.

Cole nodded at Fish who started the video again.

"_She had purchased a gun a few years ago. Not for personal defense, although that was the reason she gave everyone. But because she thought a great deal about ending her own life. She found out she could not have children. Children of her own to love and cherish. And it grieved her so. Why should I stop her and force her to continue to live in agony?"_

"_You were there when she committed suicide?"_

_Wyatt shrugged. "You may call it whatever you wish. Sister Io had no reason to live any longer. She had no worth to her family unless she continued being what they wanted her to be. And she could not be that person any longer. We talked. I smoothed the path for her."_

This time Styles held up a hand and looked at Cole. "He never said he killed Shairi. So, it was an accident? Assisted suicide?"

Cole sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "That's only going to matter to Shairi's family. Legally, we can't put a dead man on trial. Did he do anything to stop her from committing suicide? Not according to him. Did he encourage her to commit suicide? Not according to him. It was just him and Shairi in that house that we know of. Unless a third party comes forward, it's going to be a hard sell to get the Coroner to change his decision." He was aware of Strong's glance at him and nodded for Fish to continue the video.

"_Then you know how important family is. This Renee Young, in her deceit in wanting to find out 'truths', upset and scared some members of my family. She lied to them! Deceived them!" He held out his arms to either side of his body and looked upward. "She wrote the truth of her own demise!" He slowly lowered his arms. "For you see, my family means everything to me."_

"_So you killed Renee Young."_

"_As I said. She wrote the truth of her own demise." Bray chuckled to himself. "As do we all."_

"_I believe we're done."_

"And that's where the video ends," Fish said, turning his laptop back to face him.

"He didn't say he killed Renee Young either," Cena mused.

"His DNA does," Styles pointed out as he sipped his coffee. "We can close that case."

Malenko nodded. "And Shairi's," he added, glancing at Cole.

"I've got a meeting with her family tomorrow," Cole slowly said. "I want to confirm what Wyatt said about her not being able to have children." He looked at Malenko as he stood. "I need to subpoena her medical records."

"The PD has a contract with the Davenport Medical Arts Center." Malenko pulled out his phone. "I'll text you the name and number of our primary contact person. Bring me in if you get any resistance."

Cole nodded then shepherded his people out of the room.

As they waited for the elevator, Fish yawned. "Sleep?"

"Food," O'Reilly argued.

Strong looked at Cole. "Too much of a hard sell with the Coroner?"

"Shut up, Roderick."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Well, that clears four murders," Cena sighed, wrapping his hands around the travel mug. "Shairi murdered Swagger and Colter. Wyatt murdered Young and was responsible for Shairi's death. However you want to look at it."

"Leaves just the Mizanin murder." Styles started to stand up.

"Not so fast," Malenko interrupted. When Styles slowly sat back in his chair, he continued, "It'll be on news sometime today. The authorities in Rock Island County got an anonymous tip late last night. They found Lesnar's body."

"Not where the guards were found?" Cena's blue eyes narrowed. When Malenko shook his head, he frowned. "So, somebody killed the guards to get to Lesnar just to murder him?"

"That's the working theory," Malenko admitted. "As soon as they confirmed the body was Lesnar's, a list was compiled of who he'd had problems with in prison. The warden wasn't too happy to provide such a list, but a visit by a team of investigators and attorneys from the Federal Bureau of Prisons along with a bunch of subpoenas got them the information they wanted."

Styles wasn't sure, but it looked like Malenko was trying very hard not to smile. The Chief of Police had no patience or sympathy for anyone in law enforcement who either slacked off on the job or was dirty.

"From what I was told, Lesnar was worked over pretty professionally," Malenko added.

"Anonymous tip. Victim beaten systematically and professionally in at least one case," Styles said after a few seconds. He looked at Malenko. "Sounds kinda familiar, Chief."

Cena took a deep breath. "Do we know of any connection between Shairi and Lesnar or Wyatt and Lesnar?"

"Not at this point," Malenko admitted. "But…" He opened another folder and slid a piece of paper across the table. "This is an official request to question someone who'd had a lot of problems with Lesnar and now resides in our jurisdiction."

Both Cena and Styles leaned forward to read.

'_It is hereby requested that detectives from the Davenport P.D. question the following named individual with regard to (1) any knowledge of Brock Lesnar concerning their mutual contacts in Ft. Madison Federal Penitentiary; (2) any knowledge of the escape of Brock Lesnar from custody; and (3) any knowledge of the circumstances of the death of Brock Lesnar._

_Jon Moxley'_

"Damn, is this guy connected to every murder we've got?" Styles exclaimed.

Malenko put the paper back in the folder. "That's what you're going to find out."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Mox loved IHOP. The food and service were good. And if you were there at non-peak hours, you weren't bothered too much if you took up a booth for a while. But given the amount of food that Nikki had ordered, it would be understandable if they sat in the booth for a while.

"So, I made some phone calls and did some research," Nikki said as she cut into her stack of pancakes. "I've got three contractors coming tomorrow to give estimates on replacing carpet, repaving the parking lot, lighting, and painting. Oh, and an additional estimate of replacing the flooring in the breakroom and bathrooms. What about the floor in the workroom?"

Mox shrugged as he watched Nikki drown her pancakes in maple syrup. "Just needs to be swept and maybe mopped. I can handle that. Security company is coming at 9am to install alarm and cameras."

"Inside?" Nikki asked around a mouthful of pancakes.

"In came somebody walks in from the outside," Mox nodded. "Outside as well. Especially on the parking lot and loading dock."

Nikki frowned for a few moments then nodded. "Good thought. The first contractor will be there at 10 so I'll be there around 9:30 unless you need me when the security people come."

"Nah, I'll handle that," Mox assured her. "And the windows are all going to be replaced in two days."

Nikki dropped her fork and began writing in her notebook. "What time?"

"Uh…starting at 8am."

She nodded. "I'll be there. I've got an electrician and plumber scheduled for that same day to do an inspection and make sure everything's okay. The electrician is coming at 10am and the plumber at 1pm so you'll need to be there to talk to them about any specific requirements you need. Oh, and the fire inspector is coming next week to test the fire alarms, emergency signs, and sprinklers. He'll make his recommendations and then do a final inspection before you can open the doors for business. And speaking of that, I really think we should put on the business cards and on the door that business is by appointment only. Otherwise, we're going to have a lot of unnecessary people coming in and out. And that'll give you more time on the production floor. What do you think?"

Mox blinked. "Good idea," he finally answered.

Mox watched in bemusement as she picked up her fork in her left hand and started eating again while she flipped through her notebook. "What about what you were going to check on?"

"Oh, the equipment is due to be delivered in three weeks. Carpentry tools about the same time," Mox replied. "Ryder and Kendrick are graduating out in two weeks." He watched as Nikki speared a sausage link and bit off half of it. Chewing, she scribbled in her notebook, then began flipping pages as she gulped her orange juice. _'Nikki's old boss was a fool to drive her away.'_

"Okay, I played around with some logos that we can use on the sign on the door, invoices and forms, business cards, stationery, checks and whatever little promotional things we want to give away. Pens, rulers, stress balls, stuff like that. What do you think?" Nikki slid a piece of paper across the table to him.

As Mox wiped his hands on his napkin, he was aware of Nikki practically vibrating in excitement. He studied the examples closely, then pointed to one in particular.

Dawson Customizing

Furniture By Design

"This one. Distinctive without being frou-frou," Mox decided.

Nikki burst out laughing. "Love it!" She circled the one he'd chosen. "What about color?"

Mox shrugged. "As long as it's not pink, I'm good with it."

Nikki cocked her head to one side in consideration. "Forest green," she decided. "On a pure white background. Raised letters to add some depth."

"Works for me," Mox nodded.

"Okay, I've got a list of vendors thanks to those records you had." Nikki shoved another piece of paper across the table along with her pen. "Put a checkmark by the ones you recognize. I'll call them and find out what they need to get an account set up."

As Mox scanned the list, he was aware of Nikki finishing off her pancakes and orange juice. "If you want more, just order it," he said.

"Thanks!" Nikki waved down a waitress. "I'd like another orange juice, an order of sausage, and toast, please."

"Right away," the waitress assured her.

Idly wondering if Nikki had eaten the day before, Mox slid the paper and pen back across the table. "These are the vendors I remember Ben doing business with and were pretty easy to work with."

Nikki nodded, finishing off the last of her sausage and toast. "When I contact them, I can ask for samples of their wood that we can show." She glanced at Mox. "Maybe you guys can do something with them to show customers possible designs."

Mox nodded. "Yeah, I remember Ben had those in a bookcase in the conference room."

"You need to make a list of what we need furniture-wise that you can make," Nikki suggested. "Show off the merchandise to customers, so to speak. Oh, and take pictures so we can start compiling a portfolio." She began scribbling in her notebook.

Mox looked out the window and sipped his coffee to keep from grinning.

"And here's the list of office supplies we'll need." Nikki slid another piece of paper across the table. "I know it seems a lot, but we're starting from scratch. I put down the minimum quantity that I think we need to get started so if you think this is okay, I'll do some price comparisons with office supply places in town. I'll set up accounts and then in a year, we can request a yearly quote where we agree to purchase a certain amount of supplies but get a discounted price."

Mox looked down at the list. Office chair. Filing cabinet. Supply cabinet. Bookshelves. After a few minutes, he reached for Nikki's pen. He put a line through janitorial services. "I'll find out which one my brother uses." He did the same with delivery van/insurance. "My brother's got vehicles for his businesses. I'll ask him where's the best place to go and about the insurance. Same for the building insurance."

"Nikki, what are you doing here?"

Nikki looked up in surprise at the man standing next to their table.

"With your current situation, I wouldn't expect you to afford eating out."

Mox studied the man. Tailored suit. Haircut probably cost more than their breakfast no matter how much Nikki ordered. Superior attitude that automatically punched all of Mox's buttons. "I was taught that it's very rude to walk up and insult someone. Especially when interrupting a business meeting. You could at least introduce yourself."

"I'm Byron Saxton," the man pronounced after staring at Mox in surprise. "I used to be her employer. Don't tell me you're thinking of hiring her."

Mox glanced at Nikki then leaned back in the booth. "This is the numbnuts who was stupid enough to let you leave his business?"

Nikki's eyes widened as she silently nodded.

"Ah-hah," Mox nodded. "She's already hired. One of the best decisions I've made," Mox answered as he began fiddling with his fork. "She's extremely competent and doesn't take shit off anybody." He nodded again. "I like that. By the way, I didn't introduce myself. My name is Jon Moxley." He raised his eyes to see Saxton's eyes widen in comprehension.

'_He knows who I am. Good.'_ Mox continued, "As I said, numbnuts, you're interrupting a business meeting. You need to leave. Now." He held up his left hand when Saxton opened his mouth. "Not another word. Walk. Away." He looked down at the fork in his right hand and tightened his grip. Then he deliberately looked back up at Saxton….who suddenly turned around and left.

"Wow."

Mox released the fork and reached for his cup of coffee.

"I've never seen anybody put him in his place like that." Nikki stared at Mox with a mixture of admiration and awe.

Mox uncomfortably shrugged and began buttering his last slice of toast. "Long overdue then." He studied Nikki's list for another few seconds then shoved it back towards her. "You take care of it."

"What?" Nikki looked from Mox to the list then back to Mox again.

Mox reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He opened it and withdrew a card, putting it on top of the list. "That's the business credit card. High limit on it too so order what you think we'll need."

"Umm…it's accepted procedure for you to sign off on it and approve the expenditure so…"

Mox grabbed the pen and scribbled his initials on the top sheet along with the date. "My business. My procedure. Order what you think we'll need so you don't have to order stuff every week. And while you're at it, set up the utility accounts, phone, internet and all that stuff too."

Nikki silently picked up the card and slid it into her wallet, replacing the wallet in her purse.

Mox finished off the last of his toast.

"You don't know me," Nikki quietly spoke. "You're putting a lot of trust in me."

Mox thought for a moment. "Trust isn't something that comes easy to me, Nikki," he admitted. "But for the last five years I was in a place where you needed to make a decision pretty damn quick if you could trust someone for the next fifteen minutes." He slowly smiled. "I like to think I've gotten pretty good at reading people."

Nikki stared at him for a few seconds then nodded. "Thank you for that." She nodded in the direct where Saxton had gone. "And for that as well."

"You're welcome." Mox saw the waitress approaching with the rest of Nikki's breakfast. "Here comes your order. Put that stuff away so you can enjoy it."

Nikki grinned as she cleared the table, putting her files and lists into her overstuffed purse. She smiled at the plates of food in front of her. "Thanks, boss."

Mox sighed. "Don't call me boss."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Our lead story this morning concerns the recently escaped prisoner from Ft. Madison Federal Penitentiary, Brock Lesnar. Our own investigative reporter, Wade Barrett, has an exclusive. Wade?"

"Thank you, Charli." Barrett solemnly stared into the camera. "In an exclusive report, the body of escaped prisoner, Brock Lesnar, has been found. Although details are sketchy at this point, his body was not found close to the site where the prison van in which he was riding was found. It's believed some sort of IED was used to force the van off the road. Authorities are refusing to comment at this time and have promised an official statement later today. However, my sources confirm that Mr. Lesnar was severely beaten before being murdered. I'll continue to report on this story. Back to you, Charli."


	29. Chapter 29

Mox loved Steak N Shake. Steakburgers, shoestring fries, and milkshakes. Who could ask for more? Especially when sharing them with a lovely lady. He grinned as Alexa finished her steakburger.

"I'll be in a food coma by the time I get back to the office," Alexa moaned. "But this is **so** good. Where has this place been all my life?" She pushed the few remnants of her steakburger to one side.

Mox chuckled. "I think it opened just before I got arrested," he admitted. "But I remembered how good it is." He pointed a French fry at Alexa. "And you said you were okay with burgers and fries."

Alexa happily nodded.

"How was your visit home?" Mox casually asked, taking a bite of his burger.

"I didn't go home," Alexa answered. "I went back to Ohio where my family lives." She pointed out the window. "**This** is home now."

Mox slightly smiled. "Not a good visit?"

Alexa shrugged. "Went as expected. Why am I not married? I'm not getting any younger. Being a lawyer is nice but maybe I shouldn't be so picky about selecting a husband." She dragged a French fry through some ketchup. "I have to admit the family photo was funny-looking. My tall slender elegant mother and my three tall slender elegant sisters…and me. The little pudgepot."

Mox choked on his chocolate milkshake. He wiped his mouth then grunted, "I don't know what a pudgepot is, but I'm sure that's not you."

"Awww, thanks!" Alexa reached across the table and squeezed his hand. Grinning, she released his hand and chewed on another French fry. "Doesn't matter. I've heard it so much that it doesn't hurt. And I've decided that as long as I exercise and eat sensibly, I can enjoy a meal like this without slipping back into the binge and purge lifestyle."

"Good," Mox solemnly nodded.

Blue eyes twinkling, Alexa batted her eyes. "So, Mox…what's in the bag?"

Mox glanced to his left where a gift bag sat on the seat next to him. "I…uh…I got you a Christmas present," he admitted.

"Good!" Alexa turned and dug into her purse. "Because I got you one!" She pulled out a long slender box wrapped in bright red paper with a white bow and held it out to him.

Mox wiped his hands on his napkin. "You didn't have to get me anything," he muttered as he took the box.

Alexa tilted her head to one side. "You didn't have to get me anything either." She suddenly grinned. "But we both did!" She almost bounced in her seat. "Open it!"

Mox chuckled as he tore into the wrapping. He opened the box and stared down at the watch lying inside.

"You seem like a traditional guy when it comes to things," Alexa softly explained. "So, I thought you'd like a watch that just told time and maybe the date. And a leather band seemed more your style than a metal band." She saw him staring down at the watch. "Is it okay?"

"Yeah," Mox quietly answered.

Time in prison had been marked by buzzers and commands from the guards. His watch had been included with the rest of his effects when he was released from prison. But the battery had long since died, and he'd never thought about getting it replaced.

Mox slowly took the watch from the box and fastened it around his wrist. Then he smiled at Alexa. "It's perfect. Thank you."

Alexa seemed to relax. "Thank God. I was totally guessing about it."

Mox chuckled and set the gift bag on the table. "Well, I should tell you that I had help picking this. The wife of a friend…well, she's a friend, too…anyway it's been a long time since I bought anybody a gift that I knew I needed help." He watched Alexa remove the wrapped box from the gift bag. "I didn't know your favorite color…"

"Blue. And pink. And sometimes green."

"Or your favorite music…"

"Classic R&B and Motown."

Mox decided not to mention that he liked her perfume. "But I remembered your nails were a different color each time I saw you so…"

Alexa tore the wrapping from the box and squealed. "Oh my God! These colors are…glitter! Some are glittered!" She looked at Mox with a laugh. "I'm definitely wearing one of these on our next date!"

Mox found himself laughing with her.

Fifteen minutes later, they were leaving the restaurant and almost ran into a couple of Davenport detectives.

Cena and Styles stopped in surprise then quickly looked at each other.

Mox's face hardened as he took a step in front of Alexa.

Alexa calmly nodded at the detectives.

"Mr. Moxley, quite a coincidence," Cena finally spoke. "We need to speak with you."

"In regards to what, Detective?" Alexa snapped.

"We've been requested to speak with Mr. Moxley about his time in prison with Brock Lesnar," Cena explained.

"Call my attorney," Mox coldly spoke.

The two detectives exchanged a puzzled look, then turned their attention to Alexa.

"Mr. Regal is Mr. Moxley's official attorney of record," Alexa briefly explained. "Good day, detectives."

"Damn, she's gotten involved with him," Styles muttered as the two walked away. "Otherwise, she would've laid into us for wanting to question Moxley again."

Cena soberly nodded then turned to walk inside the restaurant.

"Grab a table," Styles told him as he pulled out his cell phone. "I'll be right there."

Cena silently nodded.

Styles scrolled through his contacts list then dialed a number.

"I'll give Mr. Regal a heads up," Alexa assured Mox as they stopped at her car.

"Thanks." Despite himself, Mox smiled as he gently hugged her. "How about bowling on Friday? As I remember, the Leagues are generally done bowling around 11pm so it'll be after that before I can reserve a lane. It'll be a late date."

"Sounds like fun," Alexa smiled. "Shoot me a text when you've got it set up."

Mox waited until she was in her car before walking towards the SUV he was driving that day. He mentally made a note to talk with Roman about a van for the business and an SUV for himself. He really liked driving Roman's.

Before Alexa could call Regal, her phone chimed. Looking at the display, she sighed as it read 'Styles'. She'd put his number into her contacts list when he and Cena kept coming around to question Mox. "What do you want, Detective?" she brusquely answered.

"Look, maybe I'm out of line, but are you sure you want to get involved with Moxley?" Styles asked. "He's just out of prison and…"

"What part of 'framed and wrongfully incarcerated' don't you understand?" Alexa snapped.

There was a pause then Styles replied, "I understand that. But that doesn't change the fact the man was in prison for the last five years. And that changes a person, whether you like it or not."

Alexa's fist clenched. "Do you damn job, detective, and keep your nose out of my personal business!" She disconnected the call and tossed the phone onto the seat next to her. "**Dammit!**" she hissed. Breathing deeply, she saw the gift bag on the seat next to her and slowly began to relax and smile. The idea of Mox trying so hard to find her a nice gift chased away the anger she felt at Styles' attempted interference in her life. She quickly dialed Regal's number and left a voice mail that he would be receiving a call from either Cena or Styles about Moxley and Brock Lesnar.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Roman looked up from his computer monitor at the tap on his office door.

Jericho walked in and put a file onto Roman's desk. "Here's the information you asked for on Wade Barrett."

Roman nodded. "Anything interesting?"

Jericho smirked. "Minor youthful indiscretions while growing up in Lancashire, England." He sat in a chair opposite Roman. "Attended the University of Liverpool, majoring in journalism. He'd just started working for a small newspaper when he began an affair with the wife of a Member of Parliament."

"Seriously?"

Jericho's smirk widened. "Well, apparently on her part. When it became public, he dropped her like a hot potato. Apparently, he'd been getting some information through pillow talk and earned him a reputation for unethical behavior. So, he came to the U.S. He has a valid green card and has worked mainly in small markets."

"Likes being a big fish in a little pond?" Roman guessed.

Jericho shrugged. "I think he'd like to be a big fish in a big pond. But the competition's stiff. He'd need a real big story to get the attention of people in larger markets."

Roman silently nodded. "Thanks, I'll give it a read later."

As Jericho stood, Roman's phone chirped with a message. He reached for his phone and read the message from Moxley.

'_On my way to police station. Cena & Styles want to question me about Brock Lesnar. Regal meeting me there.'_

"Fuck," Roman muttered. He quickly texted back. _'Stay in touch.'_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Mr. Moxley. Mr. Regal. Thank you for coming." Cena sat down across the table with Styles at his side.

'_Like there was a choice.'_ Mox kept his face neutral.

"What is this about, gentlemen?" Regal asked.

"We've been asked to interview Mr. Moxley regarding his time in prison with Brock Lesnar," Cena explained. "Everyone who had any sort of confrontation with Lesnar is being interviewed. We're involved only because Mr. Moxley is in our jurisdiction."

Despite himself, Mox snorted. "That's gonna be one long list," he muttered.

"What was the reason for a confrontation?" Styles asked.

Mox glanced at Regal who hesitated then nodded.

"Because it was Thursday. Or Saturday. It was raining. It was too hot. Or too cold. Or breakfast sucked," Mox grunted. "Lesnar didn't need an excuse or reason. And he knew nobody was going to do a damn thing about it."

"When was the last time you saw Lesnar?" Cena asked.

"When he was stomping away on my elbow," Mox coldly answered. "Put me in the infirmary for six weeks. I was going to be released out of there when word came down my conviction had been vacated. So, I was kept away from the general population."

"For the record, where were you yesterday?" Cena asked.

"I'm trying to get a business off the ground," Mox explained. "I was at my business with my employees putting together a plan for what needs to be done. That was in the morning until just after noon. Then I was at Home Depot and Lowe's setting up accounts for my business. Then another meeting with one of my employees to touch base and set up a breakfast meeting this morning."

"We'll need their names and contact information," Styles said. He was amused when Mox bristled.

"Seriously, gentlemen, is that necessary?" Regal demanded.

Before either detective could answer, the door opened. Chief Malenko walked into the room with another man.

"No, it's not necessary," the unknown man spoke.

"That will be all, detectives." Malenko looked at his detectives. "We've been relieved of responsibility for interviewing Mr. Moxley."

Both Cena and Styles could see that Malenko was pissed. But they got to their feet.

"Thank you for your time," Cena politely spoke before following his partner out of the room.

Malenko closed the door with perhaps a little more force than necessary.

As the unknown man sat down, a small smile played across his lips. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Kurt Angle, and I'm from the Federal Bureau of Prisons."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"What the hell, Chief?!" Styles exploded.

Malenko held up his hand. "Apparently, evidence was found at the crime scene implicating a member of the Authority in Lesnar's murder."

"Found?" Styles snorted.

Malenko didn't reply. "Lesnar's murder is being handled by the U.S. Marshals. Mr. Angle is more interested in what Moxley can tell him about the prison conditions."

"Feds," Styles grumbled as he walked away.

Cena and Malenko exchanged a wry smile. But neither contradicted Styles.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"I can't speak as to the investigation into Brock Lesnar's murder, but I can tell you that evidence has been obtained that clears you," Angle spoke. "At least for now." When Mox grunted, he smiled. "My concern is what you can tell me about the conditions within the prison. You stated that Lesnar didn't fear any consequences to his actions." When Mox looked at Regal, he added, "We're questioning anyone and everyone who had a problem with Lesnar. As you said, it's a long list."

Regal thought quickly, then slowly answered Mox's unspoken question. "I see no difficulties in answering as long as Mr. Moxley agrees. However, I reserve the right to stop this…interview at any time and for any reason."

"Fair enough," Angle agreed.

"What do you want to know?" Mox asked after a few seconds.

"What about Dawson and Wilder?"

"They were in Lesnar's pocket," Mox shrugged. "They weren't the only guards on his payroll either. Lesnar had contacts on the outside so he could pay them off with money or drugs or women or whatever. They'd look the other way when he wanted to beat someone down. Or claim Lesnar was just defending himself." He hesitated then continued, "Some guys tried to get word out through their families or attorneys but nothing ever changed. Maybe they got a visit from some of Lesnar's friends on the outside."

"And the warden?"

"Never moved out of his office. The prison doctor reported all the injuries to the warden. Took the reports, went to his office, and shoved them in his hand." Mox snorted. "For all the good it did."

"Can you tell me exactly what happened?" Angle asked.

Mox stared into Angle's blue eyes. "How specific do you want me to get?" he snarled.

"As specific as you want to be," Angle calmly replied.

Mox's blue eyes clouded for several seconds then he nodded.

Angle reached into his pocket and pulled out a tape recorder. He activated it and identified himself, Regal and Mox along with the date, time, and place of the interview. Then he placed the recorder in front of Mox and leaned back in his chair.

Mox took a deep breath and began to talk.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

'_Hay un cuerpo escondido en el sotano de la nueva tienda de delicatessen junto a la liberia Rollins. Un editor de un periodico que desaparecio.'_

Malenko rubbed his forehead and sighed. Another anonymous tip. And the Rollins Bookstore was mentioned in both of them. He picked up the phone and dialed an extension. "Cena. I need you and Styles in my office. Now."

Minutes later, the two detectives were listening to the phone tip. Both men looked at Malenko in confusion.

"Eighteen months ago, just before the two of you got here, the Editor of the Davenport Daily disappeared," Malenko explained. "His body was never found. I'd been on the job barely a month when it happened. The assistant editor said he was investigating something but was very tight lipped about it. There wasn't anything that we found to corroborate that statement, however."

"Rollins Bookstore again," Cena mused. "We did some digging on both the late John Rollins and his great-nephew, Seth Rollins. John Rollins was a native of Davenport. Owned and operated the bookstore while living in an apartment on the second floor. Had a good reputation as a shrewd businessman. Opened the bookstore to kids to provide a place for them to study and sometimes gave them part-time jobs."

"Seth Rollins' parents were killed in a drive-by shooting in L.A. when he was nine," Styles continued. "His father was a public defender. The murders were never solved, but street rumor said the murders were in retaliation for failing to get a gang member off the hook for armed robbery. John Rollins was the only living relative so Seth Rollins lived with him until he left for college."

"He didn't return to Davenport until John Rollins died," Cena added. "We've tracked him to Denver, New Orleans and Chicago. Not a blemish on his record except for a few parking tickets. Whatever he does for a living, he works from home. Past landlords have nothing but good things to say about him."

Malenko slowly nodded. "Pull the file on this case and get familiar with it. Then go see Seth Rollins."

They'd barely closed the door to Malenko's office when Styles snorted. "Wonder if Moxley's gonna be involved in this one?"

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Roman stood looking out the window of his office, almost ready to head to the police station to get his brother. It had been hours, and he'd heard nothing from either Mox or Regal. A knock on the open door startled him and he spun around.

"Sorry," Samoa Joe apologized. "I just got word that there's to be a press conference by the Chief of Police sometime tomorrow. The subject of the press conference wasn't made public, but there are rumors around his office that some murders have been solved."

Roman slowly nodded. "As soon as you know a definite time for that conference, text everyone. I want everyone here for that."

As Joe turned around, Roman's phone buzzed; and he quickly grabbed it. Seeing Regal's name on the display, he answered, "William, what's going on?"

"Nothing bad, I assure you." Regal sounded weary and tired. "However, it was a rather long interview with a chap from the Federal Bureau of Prisons. Mr. Moxley is on his way home. It…took a lot out of him. He spoke of his time in prison and confrontations with Lesnar."

"Thanks, William. I'll watch out for him."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Forty minutes later, Mox slowly opened the back door and walked in. He shut the door behind him and turned to see Roman standing a few feet away. Mox silently held out the keys to the SUV. When Roman took them, he muttered, "I probably shouldn't have been driving, but I was really careful. I just wanted to get ho…"

His words were cut off when Roman wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tightly.

"Roman…"

"Shut up, Jon."

Mox shut up and returned the hug.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Hours later, Roman stood on the back deck and stared up into the night sky. Mox was finally sleeping peacefully upstairs in his bed. It had taken some persuasion to get some comfort food into Mox, but his brother never turned down bacon. Even so, a small bowl of potato soup and half of a BLT was all he could manage.

He pulled out his cell phone and pulled up the text he'd received from Alexa asking if Mox was okay. He'd replied _'No, but he will be. He's sleeping now. But I know he'd appreciate hearing from you tomorrow. Thank you for caring about him.'_


	30. Chapter 30

Seth was sitting at the front counter of the bookstore researching rare books people had requested. He was ready to contact Antonio Cesaro and admit defeat. The book he wanted just wasn't available. He didn't look up when the front door opened as Bayley was handling customers while he did the research.

"Umm…Seth, there are police officers here to see you," Bayley nearly whispered as she leaned across the counter.

Seth looked up into her dark eyes and read the concern in them. Then he looked towards the door and recognized the two detectives. "Thanks, Bayley." He closed his laptop and walked around the counter. "Detective Cena. Detective Styles."

"Mr. Rollins." Cena nodded in acknowledgement. "We've received a tip regarding the deli next door. We need to speak with you about it. Can you accompany us over there?"

"Sure." Seth patted his jeans pocket then pulled out a keyring. Looking at Bayley over his shoulder, he flashed her a reassuring smile. "I'll be in the deli." When Bayley silently nodded, he led the detectives out of the bookstore and to the deli.

As Seth was unlocking the door, Styles noticed the sign in the window. **ROLLINS DELI. DELIVERIES UPON REQUEST. OPENING SOON!** _'Maybe not,'_ Styles frowned.

Inside the deli, Seth turned to the detectives. "What's going on?"

"We received an anonymous tip that a body is buried in the basement of this building," Cena explained. "Is there a basement?"

"A..what? **Body?**" Seth looked from one detective to another, then shook his head as if to clear it. "Yeah, there's a basement."

"Do we have your permission to go down and investigate?" Cena formally asked.

"Uh…sure. This way." Seth turned and led the way towards the back of the deli.

Behind him, Cena and Styles glanced at each other.

At the rear of the kitchen, Seth opened a door and flipped a light switch. "Be careful. These steps are narrow." As he led them down, he continued, "There's nothing down here because those steps are a pain in the ass, if you get my meaning. We can't store anything down here because it's too risky to carry stuff up and down these stairs. Somebody would fall and get hurt. So, the only thing down here is plumbing and the HVAC stuff."

Styles, holding onto the stair railing agreed with Seth. They were a pain in the ass. He glared at his partner's back. Cena was having no problems with the steps.

At the bottom of the steps, Seth took a few steps then turned. "This is it." He watched as both detectives walked around the room, eyes on the floor.

"Got something," Styles quietly spoke as he knelt on the concrete floor. As Cena and Seth joined him, he pointed. "This has been patched." When both men knelt, Styles leaned forward and traced a line in the concrete.

"Good eyes," Cena complimented with a slight smile.

"I had to patch the floor of my garage," Styles smirked. "But I did it right, and you can't tell it's been patched. This may have been done in a hurry." He glanced up at the light in the ceiling. "With better lighting, I bet we could see the actual dimensions."

"Do you know when this was done?" Cena asked, looking at Seth.

"No. It's possible it was done when my Uncle was having renovations completed," Seth admitted. "I'd have to look at the construction log. Or by the previous owner."

"When did your Uncle purchase this building?" Cena asked, standing up.

"A little over seven months ago," Seth answered as he also stood. "I can get you the exact date if you need it."

"We can get it from the Courthouse," Styles said, looking up at Cena. "We'd have to verify it anyway."

Cena nodded in agreement. "We'd like your permission to bring in a ground penetrating radar unit to see if there's anything buried under the floor." When Seth looked at him in surprise, he continued, "We have to investigate all tips, Mr. Rollins."

"Yeah, like that one about a confrontation in your bookstore," Styles casually said as he stood and brushed off his jeans.

"It's within your rights to refuse permission," Cena added. "If you do, we'll seek to obtain a search warrant."

When researching the two murder mystery books he'd written, Seth had become fairly knowledgeable about searches and warrants. It was possible they'd get a warrant based on the anonymous tip. But it was also possible it would be denied because a previous anonymous tip had not been found valid. All this had run through Seth's mind as the two detectives were speaking. He didn't want any further investigation into the confrontation in the bookstore so he nonchalantly shrugged. "If you can get one of those things down those steps, be my guest."

Upstairs, Styles got on his phone and walked towards the front of the deli as Seth closed the door to the basement.

"When are you planning to open?" Cena asked.

"Roughly two weeks," Seth answer. "We still have a couple of inspections to pass."

"If we find anything, you'll have to reschedule all that," Cena pointed out.

Seth smiled but didn't answer.

Styles was replacing his phone in his pocket as they reached the front door. "CSI will have a unit here in an hour."

Seth blinked. "That's…awfully quick."

"The tip was specific as to who might be buried in your basement," Cena replied. "I'm sure his family would appreciate the quick response."

Seth nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure they would." He pointedly looked at the front door then opened it.

Styles smirked as he walked outside, followed by Cena.

"I'll be working in the bookstore. Please call me when you're ready to proceed," Seth said as he locked the front door of the deli.

"No problem," Styles agreeably nodded.

As Seth slowly walked back to the bookstore, he saw the two detectives get into a car parked across the street. After a few seconds, he realized they were going to sit there until their CSI unit arrived. He sighed as he walked back into the bookstore.

"Seth, what's wrong?" Bayley quickly asked, seeing his expression.

"Call Finn and see if he can fill in today," Seth advised. "I'm going to be tied up at the deli." He took a deep breath. "The cops got some anonymous tip that a body was buried in the basement." When Bayley gasped, he continued, "They're waiting on some ground penetrating radar equipment to see if the tip is true."

After a moment, Bayley touched Seth's arm. "You need to call a lawyer."

Seth nodded. "I'll be in the office."

"Want me to call Kofi and Big E?"

Seth shook his head. "Let's wait and see what happens." He walked down the hall to the office and closed the door behind him. He sat at the desk then took out his phone and pulled up his contact list. Selecting a contact, he put the phone on speaker.

"Sandow Law Office. How may I assist you?"

Seth cleared his throat. "This is Seth Rollins. I need to speak with Mr. Sandow. It's…rather urgent."

"One moment, Mr. Rollins."

A few seconds later, Damien answer, "Seth, what seems to be the problem?"

"The cops just showed up and said they had a tip a body was buried in the basement of the deli," Seth explained. "It looked like there had been a patch job in the basement. I said it could've been done during renovations or by the previous owner. They're getting some ground penetrating radar equipment to see if anything…I mean anybody is actually buried there."

Damien rubbed his forehead. "You gave them permission to do this? Without a warrant?"

Seth hesitated. "I thought it would look like I was hiding something if I made them get a warrant."

"Possibly. I'm not a criminal attorney, and I think that's what you need in order to protect you and your property," Damien decided. "Let me make a phone call. There's a criminal attorney in this building with several attorneys working under him. I'll see if he or one of those attorneys are available. When are the police returning?"

"They said an hour." Seth took a deep breath. "Who's the attorney?"

"William Regal."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

As cemeteries went, the Meadows Memorial Garden was very nice. Grass neatly mowed. Removed from the highway so it was peaceful and quiet for those visiting their departed loved ones.

A small bouquet of forget-me-nots in one hand, Regal slowly walked towards a grave set apart from the others. There eventually would be graves surrounding the one he was walking towards but for now it rested in a rather lonely spot. Not unlike the lonely person buried beneath the tombstone.

Regal halted at the foot of the grave, somberly studying the tombstone. "I don't know what happens when we die," he softly spoke. "But I hope you found some measure of peace. If not, perhaps this will help. Lesnar's dead. Someone got to him, laddie. And they weren't gentle with him."

A bit of a chilly breeze ruffled Regal's hair. "No, I don't suppose you're in favor of that," he admitted with a chuckle. "But you're a better person than I, James Ellsworth."

He walked forward and placed the bouquet on the lip of the tombstone. "I admit I would've preferred bringing the bugger to trial, but I'm enough of a realist to accept what's happened. I'm just sorry I wasn't your attorney during your trial and only got involved after you were sent to prison. You were framed for that robbery. We both know that. And I'm not stopping until your name is cleared. I'll be back when that's done."

As the sun moved from behind some clouds, a shaft of sunlight struck Regal in the face. "You're welcome, dear boy," he chuckled. As his phone rang, he pulled it from his coat pocket. "I'll be back. Never fear."

Turning away, he answered the phone. "Damien! How nice to hear from you."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Cole took a seat oppose Asuka and Nakamura who'd been escorted into the conference room by Strong. "Thank you for coming," he said.

Nakamura silently nodded in acknowledgement.

Cole took a deep breath. "I'm going to give you the results of our investigation," he began. The bullet that killed your cousin came from her own gun. Her fingerprints were on the gun as well as on the bullets that were loaded in the gun. And gunshot residue was found on your cousin's hand," Cole began. "A search of her home revealed no alcohol with the exception of a nearly full bottle of sake. And the only medications were over-the-counter headache tablets. Not even nighttime sleep aids. The Coroner found no evidence of any type of drugs or alcohol in her system. In addition, a note was found which gave the indication of suicide. It read _'He is everywhere. I do this for him.'_ My thought, however, was that it was a letter of explanation of her actions." He glanced at Strong for a second. "She poisoned two prisoners who were in custody in the city jail."

"No!" Nakamura slammed his hand down on the table.

Asuka spoke to him in Japanese, and he subsided.

"I'm afraid there's no doubt of it," Cole apologized. "During the course of the investigation, we discovered the identity of the man your cousin had been seeing. His name is Bray Wyatt. And he's well known to law enforcement. Both locally and in other places."

Asuka bit her lower lip and looked downward.

"The news hasn't been made public yet because I wanted to speak with you first," Cole quietly continued. "Bray Wyatt was murdered. Violently."

Nakamura hissed.

"Before he died, he admitted to being present when your cousin died," Cole sighed. "He refused to say he killed her or that he helped her commit suicide. He **did** say that she was depressed because she found out she couldn't have children." He saw a look of surprise cross Asuka's face. "The PD has a contract with a local medical facility for all medical needs. I obtained a warrant and checked to see if I could confirm that statement. I was able to access only information about that issue; nothing else. Your cousin's privacy in that regard was protected. The doctor in question confirmed your cousin was unable to have children."

Asuka softly groaned. "Children…she wanted them…"

"What we have determined…and what we can theorize is that your cousin somehow in some way met Bray Wyatt," Cole concluded. "He was a very charismatic man. I'm sure you'll hear more about him once the news breaks about his murder. I can't tell you why your cousin poisoned those two men as that's going to be a part of the Wyatt investigation. But I can tell you that it was done at the instigation of Bray Wyatt. And, according to him, she was very remorseful about it."

"So, she will be known as a suicide?" Nakamura growled.

Cole saw the slight smile on Strong's face and ignored it. "That was the Coroner's original conclusion. However, I spoke with him and presented him with the evidence that I've revealed here. And more but that has to remain confidential. After our discussion, the Coroner changed his ruling to Undetermined Pending Iinvestigation. Once the Wyatt investigation is concluded, I feel that will be changed to homicide."

'_I would've loved to have been a fly on the wall for __**that**__ conversation,'_ Strong thought. He knew Cole had gone to the Coroner bound and determined to erase that ruling of suicide.

Asuka released a deep breath. "Thank you," she quietly spoke.

Nakamura slowly nodded. "We are…grateful for your efforts." He glanced at Asuka then stood.

Asuka and the others stood as well. "Will Io's name be brought into the investigation of this man?"

Cole hesitated. "It's possible. But I'm afraid her name will be made public as far as the murders of the two people she poisoned," he admitted. "Do you have any further questions?"

Nakamura shook his head. "I wish to hear no more."

Asuka nodded in agreement.

"I'll have someone escort you out," Strong opened the door to the conference room for them. A few moments later, he returned to find Cole still sitting at the conference table. "Softie," he accused with a smile.

Cole scowled at him. "Shairi might have been depressed at not being able to have children and about other things. But without Wyatt, I doubt she would've committed suicide."

Strong held up his hands in silent defense. "I'm not arguing that point. I just said 'softie'."

"Shut up, Roderick."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

As Asuka drove them away from the police station, Nakamura made a phone call and spoke in Japanese. _'The police are investigating Wyatt's death but are not considering us as suspects.'_

'_They could be hiding that from you.'_

'_The District Attorney took it upon himself to convince the Coroner to change manner of death of Io. He treated us with respect.'_

'_As he should. We will continue to monitor the investigation. And continue with our other plans.'_

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Seth had gotten the phone call from the attorney referred to him by Damien and explained the situation. He was relieved when Regal arrived just before he got the phone call from Cena that they were ready to proceed.

Styles nudged his partner when he saw Regal approaching with Seth. "What did I tell you? Another murder. Another link to Moxley."

"We don't know there's a body in the basement," Cena quietly reminded Style who merely shrugged.

"Detectives Styles and Cena. We meet again." Although his voice was pleasant, Regal looked anything but pleased to see them.

"Mr. Regal. Small world, isn't it?" Styles grunted as Seth unlocked the front door.

"Apparently not small enough," Regal replied.

Seth watched with the technicians grunted and maneuvered their equipment down the narrow steps. He wondered if he was a bad person for wanting the equipment to fall down the entire length of steps and onto the concrete floor.

As the technicians began their work, Cena and Styles stood on the bottom two steps to watch. Seth and Regal stood a few steps above them. Both watched intently. Seth out of curiosity, and Regal from a professional interest.

About halfway across the floor, one of the technicians looked up. "Detective, we've got something."

Both Cena and Styles quickly walked to join the technicians. Regal slipped past Seth to join them. After a second's hesitation, Seth followed. They crowded around the monitor to stare where the technician was pointing.

Seth's dark eyes widened in shock. It certainly looked like a body curled in a fetal position.

Cena turned to Regal. "Mr. Regal, you and your client need to leave. I'm officially declaring this a crime scene." Then he looked at Seth. "Mr. Rollins, it looks like your Grand Opening just might be delayed."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Roman glanced at Mox who hadn't been paying a lot of attention to the press conference they'd been watching.

"So, let me get this straight," Jimmy Uso said. "Bray Wyatt killed Renee Young because she was asking too many questions. He pointed the finger for the murder at Mox, and Swagger framed him with help from Colter. Swagger had been feeding information to Young for her newspaper column and getting information from Wyatt as an informer." He pointed a finger at Roman. "Then you get the evidence that proves Mox was framed. Swagger and Colter get arrested. Wyatt gets spooked that one or both would make a deal that would bring the cops down on him so he uses Shairi to poison them. And the cops think he's involved in some way with Shairi's death. And somebody murdered Wyatt."

"Succinctly put, yes," Jericho smirked.

"Just like we figured," Jey pointed out.

"Damn! We're good!" Jimmy high-fived his twin as they both laughed.

Naomi smacked both of them on the back of their heads.

Roman glanced again at Mox who seemed intent on studying the toes of his boots.

"Are the cops looking at Mox for Lesnar's murder?" Jericho asked.

"Apparently not," Roman answered after a moment.

"I checked with my guys who were watching Mox that day," Ricochet spoke up. "They'll provide alibis if needed."

"I don't think they'll be needed," Mox finally spoke. "I was meeting a couple of times with the people I'm working with at my business. The people at Home Depot and Lowes can alibi me for when I was at those places. Plus, there are phone records of when I was talking with some of the vendors. But the guy from the Bureau of Prisons stopped their questioning. He was more interested in what I could tell him about what was going on in that hellhole." He turned around and walked out of Roman's office, only perhaps half-recognizing the anger and bitterness in his voice.

Both Naomi and Zelina eyed his retreating figure with concern then looked at each other.

"It's difficult to leave your past behind when it keeps getting dragged up over and over," Aleister quietly spoke.

As the others left the room, Roman sat quietly in his chair. He reached for the remote and turned the television set off. As he got to his feet, he wondered just when and where Mox would eventually explode.


	31. Chapter 31

Randy Orton knocked on the door of Hunter's suite then slowly opened the door. When Hunter waved him into the room, he entered and closed the door behind him. "We have a problem. A big one."

"What kind of a big problem?" Hunter asked, looking up from the papers on the table in front of him.

"I just found out that a decomposed body's been found in the basement of Rollins' Deli," Orton reported in an even tone of voice. He saw Hunter's face harden and braced himself.

"How?" Hunter growled, his eyes narrowing.

"Anonymous tip."

A glass thrown at the nearby bar shattered into crystalline pieces and brought Stephanie running from another room.

The verbal explosion was what Orton expected.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Mox, we're here!"

Mox was in the back of his building, storing supplies in a cabinet when he heard Kendrick call out. He closed the cabinet door and turned around to see Kendrick and Ryder entering the work area.

"Wow, floor looks almost too clean to step on," Ryder joked.

Mox half-grinned. "Considering the work that I put in to get it clean, I'd tell you to take off your shoes. But it would violate a hell of a lot of safety rules." He looked past the two men. "Where's Nikki? I thought she was coming with you."

"She's in the front, reassuring her baby," Ryder answered.

Mox blinked. He didn't miss Kendrick's smirk. "Nikki has a baby?"

Ryder solemnly nodded. "Kind of a homely looking thing, if you ask me. Not that I'd ever tell Nikki that."

"Not unless you want a lengthy stay in the hospital." Kendrick poked his friend in the shoulder.

Mox started for the front area. "New carpet's not installed until next week. She can't put a baby down on that dirty carpet," he muttered. He didn't hear the stifled chuckle from Ryder.

"It's okay, baby," Mox heard Nikki croon. "See, there's plenty of sunlight. You love the sunlight even if too much isn't good for you. And there's a lot of room, and you can see outside. And I'll be right here."

"Nikki, you didn't tell me…" Mox looked around. He didn't see a baby on the floor and Nikki wasn't holding anything. "Who were you talking to? The guys said you brought your…baby?"

Nikki grinned and happily nodded. "I knew you wouldn't mind, and he'll brighten up the place."

"Who'll brighten up the place?" Mox asked in total confusion.

"Mitch. My ficus plant." Nikki moved slightly so Mox could see the potted plant sitting on a ledge next to one of the front windows. "He's just a baby right now. But he'll grow and look wonderful in the front office. I just have to make sure he doesn't get too much direct sunlight." Nikki stroked the leaves of her plant with loving care.

Mox looked over his shoulder at Ryder and Kendrick. Ryder mouthed the word 'homely' even as he grinned. Kendrick's face was turning red as he held in his laughter.

Mox inwardly sighed and walked to where Nikki was standing. "Mitch, huh?" When Nikki nodded, he smiled. "Well, welcome, Mitch. Don't stay too long in the sun. Do what Nikki tells you so you'll grow big and strong." He saw Nikki nod in happy agreement.

Both Ryder and Kendrick quickly left before they began laughing out loud.

"Meeting in the conference room!" Mox yelled after them, then turned to Nikki. "When you get Mitch settled in, join us in the conference room."

Mox found Kendrick leaning against the sink counter, holding his stomach. Ryder stood next to him with a wide grin.

"Better get all that under control before Nikki gets here," Mox warned with a grin. "She'll yell, and it'll upset Mitch."

Fortunately for Kendrick and Ryder, they'd stopped laughing by the time Nikki joined them.

"Okay, security system has been installed," Mox began. He handed keys to the other three. "Keys for front door and back door. There's a panel beside the doors where you'll enter the security code. Four numbers, and it's the date of our opening." He grinned at them. "Everybody know when that is?"

"Of course!" Nikki eagerly nodded.

"Okay, there are security cameras in the parking lot and in the alley over the loading dock areas along with cameras inside the front and back doors. There's also a security camera over the front door outside that'll hopefully be somewhat camouflaged by the sign that'll be over the front door." Mox looked at Ryder and Kendrick.

"You guys concentrate on finishing up at school," he continued. "When I get a confirmation of the equipment and tools arriving, I'll let you know so you can be here. Nikki and I will continue to work off her **many** lists." He grinned when Nikki snorted.

"Organization, boss. Organization."

Mox sighed. "Nikki…"

"Oh, I picked up some brochures from local businesses that deliver lunches!" Nikki turned to leave the room. "I'll get them. And my lists! And bring Mitch in for a drink! Be right back."

This time Mox didn't even try to stop Ryder and Kendrick from laughing.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"And our final story for this evening, a decomposed body has been found in the basement of a local business. The Rollins Deli is scheduled to open soon. However, an anonymous tip alerted police to a potential crime scene in the basement of the business. Our own Wade Barrett in on the site. Wade, what can you tell us?"

"Thank you, Charli." Barrett grimly smiled into the camera lens. "Behind me is Rollins Deli, scheduled to open soon. However, police were sent to this business by an anonymous tip claiming a body was buried in the basement." He turned slightly so the camera could get a good picture of the front of the deli, now blocked by police crime tape. A few people stood nearby on the sideway watching and talking.

"Police did, in fact, find a body buried under the concrete floor in this building," Barrett continued, turning back to face the camera. "The body was removed only a few moments ago. The police are refusing comments at this time, but I can confirm the body was decomposed although I could not ascertain to what degree. While it would be reckless to speculate on the identity of the person found in the basement of Rollins Deli, if anyone has reported a friend or loved one as missing, I would urge them to call the police department and provide whatever information possible to aid in the identification of this poor individual. Back to you, Charli."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Hunter was tempted to throw something at the television set, but Stephanie's hand on his arm calmed him down. Instead, he grimaced and walked to stare out the window at the street below. He hadn't meant for the man to be killed…just warned off…scared. But the imbecile who called himself Rhyno had allowed things to get out of hand. And a body had to be disposed of quickly. Purchasing the empty building so soon after the man's disappearance would've just drawn attention to themselves. But every time he'd thought it was safe to tell Mizanin to buy the building, the missing person case would be brought back into the public eye.

Then John Rollins has bought the building, and Mizanin had botched the effort to buy it from the old man.

Fortunately, no one was going to find Rhyno's body. It had been dumped in the deep waters of Lake Michigan. He had a low tolerance for screw ups.

Hunter took a deep breath and turned back around. Orton had turned off the television set, and Stephanie warily watched her husband.

"It won't take long to identify him," Orton quietly pointed out.

"A couple of days at the most," Hunter grimly admitted. "Less if that anonymous tip told them who was buried in that basement."

"Who could've made that call?" Stephanie quietly asked.

Hunter looked at Orton. "The Elite are the only ones who were involved in the cleanup."

The Elite served as roving fixers…men who cleaned up mistakes. By lucky happenstance, they'd been in Davenport after fixing a problem in Chicago. Hunter had been briefing them before intending to send them to Atlanta on another job.

"Would one of them have made that call?" Stephanie demanded.

Hunter and Orton stared at each other for a few seconds before Orton shook his head. "I'd say not. There's no reason for any of them to do so. Matt and Nick Jackson are totally loyal to Kenny Omega. And while Adam Page might be a bit of a maverick, he wouldn't betray any of the others. Especially Omega."

Hunter slowly nodded. "I agree. Their last assignment put them in Los Angeles. Check to make sure they haven't gotten into trouble there. And where they are now."

Orton nodded and left the room.

"Somebody made that call," Stephanie muttered.

Hunter frowned. He started to speak but was interrupted by his phone ringing. Irritably, he picked it up then froze at the name on the display. He answered the phone and pleasantly answered, "Vince. How are you?"

Stephanie's blue eyes widened as she rose to her feet and walked to stand at Hunter's side. He put the phone on speaker but put a finger on his wife's lips to keep her silent.

"Fine. But this isn't a social call." Vince McMahon's voice was crisp and businesslike. "There will be a meeting in one hour. I understand there is an executive conference room in the hotel where you're staying. You'll be meeting with someone. He'll bring three of his people. You bring three of yours. I'll call in and explain then."

Hunter saw Stephanie nodding at him. "No problem, Vince. One hour." He didn't even blink when Vince disconnected the call. He looked at Stephanie with concern. "What the hell?"

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"Once the body is identified, the police will be back to ask you questions," Regal quietly advised. "I suggest you use this time to gather documentation to prove that your Uncle didn't do any renovations in the basement. I believe you said you had the construction logs?"

Seth nodded and pointed to the bookcase in his uncle's office.

"If you permit, I'll take them and have copies made in my office," Regal offered with a slight smile. "It would be more confidential than having it done at Staples."

Seth grimaced and nodded. He walked to the bookcase and found the two books with the construction logs and other documentation for the Deli. He handed them to Regal then said, "That realtor who was murdered…Mizanin…he harassed my Uncle John to buy the bookstore. Uncle John finally threw him out and threatened to have him arrested if he returned. He came up to me at Uncle John's funeral and said he and Uncle John had reached an agreement to sell the bookstore. But my Uncle's attorney, Damien Sandow, told me the truth." Seth paused for a moment, then continued. "What if it was the Deli he was actually interested in? And the Study Hall?"

Regal shrewdly studied Seth for a few seconds then slowly nodded. "Buy the middle property then get the ones on either side of them. It's a fairly common tactic. Interesting idea."

Seth grimaced, then shrugged. "Probably doesn't mean anything."

"Possibly," Regal admitted. "We'll keep that idea on the back burner for now." When Seth nodded, Regal formed his own silent opinion. _'You know something more about this, don't you, laddie?'_ He tucked the books under his arm. "The police have my card so they should contact me if they wish to speak with you. However, if they contact you first, answer no questions until I or one of my associates arrive." He smiled. "I take great pleasure in reminding law enforcement of how things are supposed to be done."

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Hunter believed in dealing from a position of strength. He, Stephanie, and Orton arrived in the hotel executive conference room ten minutes before the time when Vince would call. Cesaro met them at the door and indicated the side table where snacks and drinks were arranged. Then he left, leaving his chief of security behind.

Sheamus pleasantly spoke with Hunter and Stephanie then exchanged a slight nod with Orton. Then he went to the side table and popped a few grapes into his mouth. Five minutes later, Sheamus felt his phone vibrate and took it out of his pocket. He glanced at the screen then replaced the phone in his pocket.

"Cesaro says they're on their way up. Three men. One woman."

"Did he recognize any of them?" Hunter asked.

"He only saw the face of one of the men," Sheamus answered. "Didn't recognize him but warned he was a huge muscular man."

Hunter shrugged. Cesaro had come from operations in Europe and worked primarily in New York before recently coming to Davenport. It was disappointing but not surprising that Cesaro hadn't recognized anyone.

Sheamus and Orton took their positions to the back and slightly to one side of both Hunter and Stephanie. Seconds later, the door opened; and a man stepped inside the room.

Stephanie's blue eyes widened as Hunter clenched his fist. "You!" she hissed.

"Hi, Stephanie. How ya doin'." Shane McMahon smiled at his younger sister. "Hunter, you look good. Randy, I see you're still alive." Shane looked at Sheamus and politely nodded his head. As the door closed behind him, he walked forward and sat at the opposite end of the table. "My associates. This is Braun Strowman." He indicated the giant of a man who protectively stood behind Shane. "And I believe you already know Asuka and Shinsuke."

Hunter coldly nodded. "I do. And thought loyalty meant more than it apparently does."

Shane mockingly smiled. "Apparently you mistakenly thought loyalty could be so easily transferred from one person to another." He glanced at the conference phone on the table that began ringing. "Do you want to answer that or shall I?"

Hunter controlled his anger and reached towards the phone. He pressed a button and spoke, "Everyone is here."

"Good." Vince approvingly spoke. "To make this short and sweet. Shane's back. He will be taking care of new business. With the exception of the new hotel that will be built to support the casino, that is. That remains under Stephanie and Hunter's control."

"Dad, are you saying we can't expand our operations?" Stephanie quickly asked.

"Not at all," Vince assured his daughter. "But Shane will be working on some new projects. If your…expansion runs counter to those projects, Shane's projects take precedence. Is that understood?"

"Completely. Except that it could be that our expansion would be more profitable," Hunter smoothly pointed out, his eyes never leaving Shane's.

"Possibly," Vince admitted. "Shane's projects are extremely important. So, if any…problems arise, I'll settle the matter. But you'd better have a good reason for matters to reach that point. Further, there are to be no conflicts and no reprisals. If there are any conflicts that require police intervention **or** their involvement in any way, I'm going to be very displeased and will resolve the situation to **my** satisfaction. Is that understood?"

Everyone in the room was reminded of two things. First, even if Vince was in Europe, he was still running the operation. Second, Vince McMahon was still a very dangerous man to cross.

"Completely, Dad," Stephanie confidently assured him.

"Crystal clear, Vince," Hunter added.

"Absolutely, Dad," Shane agreed as he smiled at his sister and brother-in-law. "We're all adults. I'm sure we can all just…get along."


End file.
